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k3rm1e · 3 years

Note

hey hey! it’s me 🥀 anon.. micheal x reader in 3rd grade ( being friends ofc:] ) 🙂 tommy’s daughter ( or gn reader any is cool😎 ) but reader beats up bully for making fun of micheal

friends

hey hey! it’s me 🥀 anon.. michael x reader in 3rd grade ( being friends ofc:] ) 🙂 tommy’s daughter ( or gn reader any is cool😎 ) but reader beats up bully for making fun of michael

hello 🥀 anon! apologies for the long wait, i have been doing things ;-;

but!!! i am here now with this so i hope you enjoy :D

cw: cursing

friends:

you hated him. you hated the small half-piglin half-zombie kid. it was unreasonable, he was your dad’s best friends’ kid. the infamous bench trio, with kids of their own. the legacy left behind, of fallen countries and terrible men, to fall on your shoulders.

you always spoke with him. sat with him on the bus, at lunch, in class, sitting. talking. more of he spoke, you listened. even though the other students came to ask questions, they never stayed. the simple existence of two of you, two kids, with the parents you had was too much.

the old stories of l’manburg, manburg, pogtopia, the infamous button room, the burnt mushroom house, the obsidian walls, logstedshire, the disc confrontation, pandora’s vault, all of it. every story, every tale, included your father. in history class you were stared at, you and the piglin boy. when students wanted to ask about the historical figures they learnt about, it was to the two of you. and you hated it.

the attention, it was never on you. always him. whether it was from students, teachers, family, friends, hell, even the hecking sheep that belonged to the fading soul of a long gone man cared more for the kid. not even tommy, your father, paid more attention to you. he was always out, causing trouble even now. tubbo and ranboo, despite their efforts to keep michael safe, had somehow ended up with him becoming even more of a trouble maker than the three of them combined. you would much rather spend time with the fading soul, listening to his songs as you sat on the glass covering a crater. he claimed it gave him inspiration, to sit above the symphony he never finished.

so, when you saw the small boy talking to others at lunch, you were conflicted. was it good, good he had gained more people, more friends? you never enjoyed sitting with him, having to listen to him speak for hours. he never even realized he was being annoying, causing trouble. so, shouldn’t this have solved your problems? knocked them down the drain?

and yet, you felt bad. staring at them on the playground, your soul hurt. you didn’t want to be like the fading soul, to feel like this. michael, turned to look behind him. the look on his face seeming like it was begging for you to walk over there. but you felt guilt. and so, you ran.

“ghost!” you ran above the glass, making sure your steps weren’t too heavy footed.

he looked up, from his sheet music and the guitar. “oh, hello. are you just getting back from school?” the area around was abandoned. after so many years of being near such a negative place, everyone left. deserted it. all that was left was the glass and the small, somehow still standing structures. at the very bottom of the pit was a sea of red, always growing but never moving, sitting dead yet alive.

“yeah. it was a long day today. and i need advice. but first, do you have any music for me?” you sat in front of him, pulling out extra snacks from lunch out of your back.

“music later, speak now. what’s wrong? do you need some blue?” anytime you seemed upset, ghost gave you blue. when tommy saw, he was nervous. more distant. you didn’t want him to see it, you didn’t want to drive him away. so, you used the dye for other things. your pants, your shirts hoodies, what ever could be dyed. all of it, a deep blue the color of old, burnt suits, used for a country few actually remembered.

“no, no blue today, ghost. i still have some from last time, so thank you. and i need to ask a question. if i do not like someone, should i help them when they are in trouble?” you laid back, the cold of the glass hitting your neck.

“it really depends, what has this person done? in the past, i’ve been wronged by others. heavily.” in his eyes, you could see the healing wounds that may never form, as he felt the blue wool in his hands. the memories of a father and a brother and a sheep, you could see them in the fading soul.

“i was helped, or at least he tried to help me. i didn’t like him. as far as my knowledge goes, he did not like me. he hurt those i loved. even so, he helped me. tried to save me. it backfired, badly. but he still tried. i owe him my gratitude, i wish i could repay him. for all he’s done.” he stared down, reminiscing. the ever living dying red shone in the setting sun.

“so, to conclude, you should help him, in my opinion. i think its good, to help others, even when they’ve wronged you. build amends, y’know?” he looked down to you, who was sitting silently.

“thanks ghost. can you play me something now?” you watched him sigh. you needed to think about what to do, how to go about this. slowly, you heard the faint sounds of a guitar begin.

“the cute bomber jacket you've had since sixth form…”

in the morning, you were ready. at school you pestered michael to no end, speaking when he didn’t. he looked sad? here’s some blue dye my friend gave me , its supposed to make you happy! it’s even the same color of that sheep you like. when the older boys tried to approach him at lunch, you ran with him over to the swings.

“michael, push me on the swings! after i’ll push you and we can try to knock each other off!” he pushed you higher and higher and higher. piglins are stronger than you expected.

for weeks, it was like this. constant talking. michael, despite his usual talkativeness, was quiet. it was tuesday, and you couldn’t find him anywhere. what if those boys were rude to him? is he gonna get hurt? he may be strong, but he’s small. you found him surrounded by taller boys in the corner.

“hey!” you screamed at them, inwardly terrified. dad had always said to be strong so be strong, ‘don’t be a pussy’ he would say (in a joking manner of course).

“the hell you gonna do, shortie?” on of the boys turned around, laughing at you.

“go away!” the boys chuckled again and you felt the anger flow through you. “fuck off you pussies! you cunts!” you screamed at them, using words you’ve heard your dad say. you pushed them over and grabbed michael’s hand. time to run. the boys chased you throughout the woods as you made your way to the location. once you reached the small forest clearing, they were gone. you started walking with him to the crater.

michael was silent before looking at you. “... why’d you help me? i thought you hated me.”

“i... i don’t hate you. not anymore at least! i was mad for dumb reasons and found you annoying because of that. but now, i know that its fine.” you tried to explain your self to him.

“i always talked to you because i don’t like talking to others. i didn’t want you to feel lonely. i know uncle tommy doesn’t talk with you much. he gets nervous.”

this was new information. “why does dad get nervous?”

“i think it has something to do with his own dad. he might be scared of being like him, disappointing you.”

“...oh. i’m sorry. for being bad to you.”

“it’s okay. we’re friends now, right?” he looked over to you, smiling.

you stared down at him. “yeah, yeah we are.” after some silent walking, you arrived at the crater. ghost was sitting on the glass.

“ghost!” you ran to him, dragging michael with him. “ghost, this is michael. michael, this is ghost.” you proudly stood, making michael shake hands with him. he visibly cringed at the coldness of ghost’s hand.

“oh, hello michael. would you like some blue?”

you all sat, talking. you told michael about ghost’s guitar skills and the two of you forced him to play you songs. you were friends now, and it would stay that way.

when the sun went down and you got home, your parents were pissed. your dad was on his knees, crying. he held you in a hug around your waist. “why are you crying?”

“i was so worried about you. don’t do that shit to me again, okay?” you looked up at you and held your face in his hands.

“...okay dad. okay.” you bent down and hugged him as the fading soul watched from a distance.

late post tonight aaaaa

y’know, i really need to stop going off track from asks just to write found family type fluff

but nonetheless, i hope you enjoyed

also is it spelt michael or michEal bc on the dsmp wiki its michAel but idk??

#mcyt x reader #ghostbur x reader #ig?#dsmp michael x reader

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issabangtanfic · 3 years

Text

[Jungkook] The Windmill House (Chapter 11)

Synopsis: When your stereotypical Christian Grey meets his not so stereotypical Anna

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

A/N: Feel free to submit a cover! Tell me what you think in my inbox! Enjoy!

It's been years since I’ve been left with that much energy after a day at work. I have minimal oiliness on my face by the time I check my mirror in my car. I actually feel like I could run a mental marathon, which is good considering my next stop. Tonight, I’m seeing the flirtatious Mr.Jeon so he can finally give me the brief for the windmill house. I have to admit, I’ve kind of been looking forward to it, not only because the house is amazing, but also because I find some fun in declining his straightforward yet quite funny advances. I drive my Mini out of London, to the secluded green space where Mr.Jeon’s house is. I stifle a smile walking up the crackled stairs. I almost fell on it the first time I came here. I remember almost losing my shit when he caught me. I don’t think I’d be that phased if it were to happen today. I’ve had him way closer to me since then, and that has been something too.

I park my car at the end of the dirt road at the bottom of the hill, and hike up the stairs that lead to the house. When I get there, I notice a black wooden door with mouldings has been installed. It's better than the sad plank that was there before, and it actually kind of fits the architecture. I knock on the door, and a few moments later, Mr Jeon opens it.

“Miss Fair.” He greets, smiling at me, all grey suit and white shirt, his tie gone, three of his buttons undone. I stop my eyes from moving further down, not wanting to check him out too obviously.

“Good Evening, Mr.Jeon.” I murmur, returning the smile. He always looks so yummy.

“Good evening.” He replies, stepping aside to let me in. “Please, come in.”

Step into the house, the floorboards creaking under my heels as I make my way in, and he closes the door behind me.

“How was your day?” He asks as I walk into the living room, myeyes immediately going to the immense, 3 to 4 meter high bookshelf I saw last time. The house is as pretty as I remember it.

“Busy.” I reply evasively, my eyes wandering up to the ceiling, and the dome where the roof opens up onto the sky.

“Have you eaten yet?” He asks, pulling my attention back to him. I turn to him, and he's leaning against the kitchen counter, hands shoved in his pockets. I narrow my eyes at him.

“Are you going to try and turn this into a date?” I ask warily. Of course he's trying to make this a dinner date. He chuckles ,taking a few steps towards me.

“I’m worried about your blood sugar.” He counters, and I roll my eyes to the heavens. My blood pressure is what is really worrying.

“I am fine, thank you.” I decline politely. This is a business meeting, Maya. I turn back around, venturing further in the living space. The couches are still covered by white sheets, except for one old brown leather armchair that I will one hundred percent stay in the house.

“Where should we start?” He prompts as I set my bag down onto the pretty arm chair.

“We can go from room to room and you tell me whatever you want to be done." I explain, sliding my coat off of my shoulders. I set it down on the back rest of the chair and start gathering my equipment. "I can also give you my ideas. I’ll snap a few pictures so I can remember how everything looks.” I say, pulling my tablet, camera and notepad out of my bag.

“Then, I’ll draw sketches and I’ll come back to you for your approval.” I conclude.

“Okay.”

“I'll also need the blueprints of the house.” I add before I forget.

“I’ll send them to you.”

“Okay.” I turn around , glancing at the stairs that lead up to the star-azing platform..

“I really want to start up there.” I informed him. I have been thinking about this part of the house ever sincethe first time I came here. The sun has set, and I'm not sure what I'll be able to see but I'm curious.

“Sure.” He concedes, walking me up to the stairs. He lets me go first while he stays down under the staircase to turn the crank that lifts the blinds from the roof.

On the platform there is what I'm guessing is a telescope covered by a white sheet pointed at the ceiling.

After he gets to work the panels slowly go up, unveiling a dark sky with a few sparkles, and an almost full moon clearly visible.

“Oh, wow.” I whisper. This isn't the starriest sky I've seen in my life, but it's pretty bright for something just 45 minutes away from London. I guess the light pollution doesn't hit as much here.

A few seconds later, Mr.Jeon climbs the stairs and comes up behind me. This space has so much potential. It's so unique, I don't think I've ever seen anything like that before.

“So your grandfather designed this?” I ask him, unable to detach my eyes from the spectacle in front of me.

“Yes. I’d like to keep it like this of course, but I want this space to have seats.” He explains, pulling my attention back to the platform I'm standing on. The stairs and floor are metal, which gives it a very industrial feel, but doesn't match the warmth we're trying to give the house. Imagine laying on a comfy fatboy and just staring up at the sky for hours.

“Like a star-gazing station?” I ask him.

“Exactly.” He concurs. “I think it’d be nice if you were able to lay down too.”

“I agree.” I nod.

"I think," Mr.Jeon trails off, stepping in front of me and reading the calendar stuck on the wall right next to the covered telescope. "Venus should be visible tonight." He says as he checks the time on his watch. Venus?

"Really?" My eyes widen in excitement as he uncovers the telescope. It's dark green and kind of rusty, defenitely an old piece of equipement. I bet this belonged to his gandfather. It's not dusty though, meaning he probably uses it frequently.

"I mean it is visible during the day too, it's one of the brightest objects in the sky." He explains, unscewing the lense cover and the eye piece. Oh, I'm about to see a planet for the first time! I'm still surprised a man like him has this kind of interest. It's really not common.

"But it might be too low now." He muses, and I watch as he twists and turns the telescope that is almost his height, following an integrated compass with coordnates. He looks into the telescope in silence, and I'm fascinated by how easy he makes it look. This businessman has hobbies that don't consist in golf.

"There she is." He says once he's found his target, and steps back from the telescope. "Take a look." He invites me. I take his place and look through the lense, to see white bright disc in the center of my vision.

"It's so bright." I observe. I'm only seeing a bright disc of light, I wonder what it would look from up close.

"It's atmosphere is mainly thick clouds which makes it really reflective." I hear him explain behind me.

"You sound so nerdy." I remark, turning around to look at him. He crosses his arms.

"I wouldn't be building rockets if I wasn't a nerd." He retorts. True. I take another look at the planet thoufh the telescope. It's amazing to see, but I'm really curious about how it would look if I were on the surface. It's kinda sad that I'll probably never know.

"This is a really cool place to have in a house." I muse, looking back at him. He has his very own small scale observatory. "I've never seen anything quite like this."

"It's pretty nice." He agrees. I pull out my camera and snap a few picturs of the space, and we move on with the rest of the tour. After coming back down into the livingroom, we both agree to keep the massive bookshelf. That was a given; this is another huge piece of the house that never in a million years I would have considered removing even if he asked me to.

He tells me his grandfather has read evey single one of the books in there, and has even written some of them. He throws some ideas for the arrangement of the space ,and I snap e few more pictures. Then we tour the rest of the house; the dinning room, the two bedrooms upstairs, the bathroom, and the backyard. It takes us almost an hour to complete, and we're back in the living room, where I put down all my tools and start to pack up.

“Wine?"

I turn around to find him behind the kitchen ocunter, holding an expensive-looking bottle of red wine. He's trying to make me drink again! I give him a dissaproving stare.

“I bought this bottle for the occasion.” He tells me.

“What occasion?”

"Any day I get to see you is worth celebrating to me.” He coos. Oh please! “Considering how you’re always avoiding me.” He adds. Oh, I know where this is going.

“I am not going to sleep with you tonight.” I articulate, trying to sound convinving despite my amused tone.

“I’m just offering you a drink.”

“You’re trying to get me drunk.”

“Maya, you’re way smarter than this.” He tilts his head to the side.

“Excuse me?” I mimick him, crossing my arms under my chest.

“You wouldn’t be here if you really thought I was going to try to take advantage of you like that.” He points out. True. But still.

“It’s Italian wine.” He adds when I don't answer. “I think you’ll love it.”

How does he know what I like already?!

“Just one glass.” I give in. One tiny glass. I'm driving anyways so I'm not about to go crazy tonight.

“Okay.” He agrees before pulling two wine glasses from under the counter. He pours me half a glass, before serving himself.

I thim and we clink our glasses before taking a sip each. An boy this man knows his wine. I love sweet reds. Before I can even comment on the taste, there's a loud knock on the front door.

"Just in time." He comments, droping his class and walking over to the door. Who is he expecting? I hear the door open.

"Thank you Jimin." Mr Jeon says. Jimin? Isn't that his assistant? I remember his name from the time I went to the purple mansion. The door closes and Mr.Jeon reappears.

“I hope you like sushi." He announces, holding two plastic bags in his hands. Sushi?

"You ordered food?" I gasp, my face a mix of confusion and glee. "I figured you wouldn't have had time to eat." He answers, walking over to me. I watch, mesmerised as he drops the food on the counter. My eyes follow as he pulls out one, then a second, then a third plate of colorful sushi. There’s makis too, salmon, tuna, sea breaam sushi- a lot f very good stuff. I’m salivating, my eyes hugging the food close. "Hungry?" I look up and see him smirking at me. I love sushi, and I don’t know if I can refuse this offer. This is better than sex. "Well, I wouldn't want to waste." I shrug a shoulder, making him chuckle. He then pulls out the sauces, disposable chopsticks and napkins. Little white makis catch my attention. "What are these?" I ask, pointing at my first preys. "Cheese makis.” "Cheese?" I repeat. Has there been a kind I haven’t tried yet? It’s time to update the sushi-pedia. "Have bite.” Mr.Jeon proposes, splitting a pair of chopsticks. He picks one of the cheese sushi and brings it over to my face. At this moment, I don’t even feel like pointing out how inappropriate it is, this man just won’t stop. I bite the sushi off, surprised by the creaminess of the cheese. I hum appreciatively. Sushi can never go wrong, even with cheese in it. This is amazing. "Right?" He concurs, smiling softly. "It's good." I agree once I’ve swallowed. Mr. Jeon hands me another pair of chopsticks, and I dive into the colorful maki rolls. "I'm going to be honest," I trail off after the first two bites. "You have found my weak spot." I mumble. "Sushi?" He says, amused. I nod vigorously. I would have declined any other type of food he would have proposed, but not sushi. He was spot on, and I'm not ashamed for giving in. "Any physical weak spot you want to tell me about?" When I look back at him, he’s turned his body so he’s facing me. Elbow propped onto the counter, he’s giving me all his attention. Oh you wish, Mr.Hotbuttocks. "I'll let you in on a secret." I announce, twisting so I’m facing him as well. "I'm all ears." He murmurs. Feeling brave, I lean closer to him, prompting him to bend his neck and quite literally give me his ear. A distant, unused and forbidden part of my brain wants to bite his earlobe just to see his reaction. But I refrain. "I'm not having sex with you." I whisper, making him chuckle. He pulls back, shaking his head at me. I catch another sushi. "There was a time when you wouldn't say that." He says to me, eyes playful. "I was drunk." I retort. "Just tipsy." He counters. Ha! "There's not much difference." I mumble. "Let me put it another way.” He prompts, and I don’t like the smirk he’s giving me. I narrow my eyes at him. "Are you attracted to me?" He asks, but I’m not sure it’s a question. He’s looking at me dead in the eyes, probably watching my pupils dilate. I don’t think I can ever say no to that question, now that Iiterally have drunk-dialed him asking for sex. But I’m not going to admit it either. "Does it really matter?" Is the best I come up with, and he laughs at me in a short snort. I know he knows that was a lame attempt, but he ignores it. "Well, you know the feeling is mutual." He murmurs, and it makes my insides fuzzy. Such a handsome man being attracted to me physically is a confidence booster, but I also know the fact that I don’t take shit from him also plays a role in it. He likes that I'm not giving in. "You're only attracted to me because I resist you." I reply. He raises an eyebrow. "Is that why you're resisting me? So you can have me chasing you?” He asks, leaning closer to me and propping his chin on his fist. I am more phased by his words than his proximity. Am I enjoying the chase? I mean the only reason I’m not throwing myself at him is because I know when he finally gets me it’ll be over. Is that what's stopping me? Knowing there probably won't be a second time? Or is it the fact that I'll just be another rebelious woman he'd managed to tame?

“No.” I shake my head after thinking about it for too long. I mimic him, resting my head on the palm of my hand, my elbow right next to his. “Well, I’m not attracted to you because you resist me." He murmurs, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Sure.” “Let me get to my point." He prompts. Oh, whatever.

"You're submissive, right?" He asks out of the blue, taking me by surprise. Excuse me? Rude!

I immediately feel exposed, because I know he knows the answer to that question. I feel my face heat up. Where is he going with this? "Maybe." I reply, trying my hardest not to betray my panic. But I can’t bring myself to lie looking into his eyes, so I look away, earning another heartfelt chuckle. "Maybe, alright." He repeats. He sees right through me .To be fair, I am not putting the best act. I'm too easily read. I blush, I frown, I fidget, I play with my hair - I have the most telling body language and it hasn't helped me once in life. “What is your point, Mr.Jeon?” I ask, wanting to end the torture. "So when you find someone attractive, you tend to let them take control and bring you pleasure." He trails off. I nod in agreement, still unsure where this is going. "But it doesn't mean you're weak or dependent. You chose to be in that position because that's what brings you the most pleasure. In fact outside the bedroom you're a very opinionated woman and you get your way quite often." He adds. I'm still following at this point, but I know he's trying to get me somewhere I don't want to be. I repeat his words in my head a second time. I feel like I’m about to get tricked. "True." I agree reluctantly, knowing I probably shouldn't. “See, you think I'm all about the challenge and keeping women who challenge me submissive and obedient, but I work differently." He explains. Oh, I’m sure he does. "Just like you being submissive doesn't mean you're dependent and passive, me wanting to pin you against a wall and do things to you has nothing to do with my respect for you or women in general." He murmurs. Pin me against a wall and do things to me?! I take a discreet but deep breath, watching as the corner of his mouth turns into a smirk when he realises I’m already imagining things. "What I'm trying to say is," He trails off, and I think I catch his pupils dilating as our eyes meet. "When I find someone attractive, I tend to hold down..." He says, his tone lower, his voice so seductive it sounds like a purr. "And bite..." He adds, bringing the tip of his index finger just under my ear. "And kiss..." I hold his gaze while he slowly runs it down the side of my neck, barely brushing my skin but letting me feel plenty. "And lick..." He stops at the spot where my neck and shoulder connect, my hairs standing alert in the wake of his touch. His eyes don’t leave mine, intense and blazing. My libido is through the roof. I want him to do that again. Biting and kissing and licking... I’m not learning anything new here. I’ve always known this man was dominant and kinky. I’m not surprised, but he’s just so sexy. He oozes sex, he smells like sex, he looks like sex, it’s intoxicating. "Because that's what gives me the most pleasure." He adds, his voice feeling like butter. "But I also always have my partner's pleasure in mind. Sometimes more than my own." He says, barely hiding the promise in his words. He leans back as if to mark the ending of his monologue, and that’s when I realise I had stopped breathing.

I feel dizzy and my cheeks are burning. "Well,”I sigh, reaching for my wine. “Your next conquest should consider herself lucky." I say, raising my glass in his honor, before throwing the entire thing back. I feel thirsty, and hot and bothered. "Yeah, you should." He retorts, making me splutter and almost choke on my wine. He laughs at me, his laugh loud and boyish, while I try not to spit wine all over myself. “You have no shame.” I say in wonder, shaking my head at his mirth. "What should I be ashamed of? Being attracted to you?" He retorts. "Being inappropriate." I reply, narrowing my eyes at him. What a tease. "You're smiling." He counters. "It's better than you running from me." He murmurs, his words heavier than what he wants me to think. I don't think I'm running away as much as I used to. I went to dinner with him, and I'm here today. I'm still aware of the majo red flags he waved at me when we first met though. "You give me reasons to run." I argue. This man smells like trouble, and I'm hovering over a dangerous line but I'm confident in my capacity to protect myself. His gaze turns to playful to a little bit more serious. He looks pensive. "I was hoping it wasn't the case anymore." He says quietly, and he almost sounds disappointed by my answer. "I wouldn't be here if it was." I say to reassure him a little bit. "I'm glad to hear that." He smiles softly. Part of me doesn't want to make him too happy, but I guess I'll give him that.

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about." He prompts, and I feel him getting even more serious than before.

"We've never really talked about what happened with my brother." He trails off. Oh...

Way to kill the mood. I feel myself stiffen instantly as the few memories I have of that night flash back to me.

"And again, I'm sorry for what happened." He says to me. He has told me before that his brother got the "wrong impression". And I would like, in order to start contemplating the idea of forgiving me, to know how in the hell he got that wrong impression. Because to me it is unjustifiable. Was it my dress? Nope. No matter how short it could have been, and it wasn't even short. My body language? Nah. The mere fact that we were drinking? Hell to the no.

"I have always wondered how he could possibly have thought I was going to have sex with him. That still doesn't sit right with me." I tell him honestly, because if he's asking me to forgive him for thinking anything I did led him on, I'll be gone before he even finishes his sentence.

"He could tell I was attracted to you, and he knows I usually don't mind sharing." He explains to me. He doesn't mind sharing? Sharing women with his brother?!

"And he was drunk." He adds while I try to precess this information. My face is a knot of confusion. He had threesomes with his brother? Why do I feel like there's something very incestuous about it? I'm effectively grossed out.

"You share your sexual partners with him?" I utter, unable to hide the judgment in my voice. He doesn't seem fazed by the horror on my face."If they both want each other I usually don't have a problem with it." He shurgs a shoulder. How is he so cool about this? Is it normal nowadays? Am I weird for finding it weird. I mean; obviously him and Eliott aren't blood brothers, and I don't think they have sex together per say, but they both participate in a sexual act at the same time!

"So you-"

"Not threesomes, no." He cuts me off. Oh thank god!

"Huh." I exhale.

Okay, so he just doesn't mind sleeping with the same woman as his brother.

"So, hypothetically," I traill off. "If we were to sleep together- which we won't- you wouldn't -"

"I would be extremely possessive of you." He cuts me off, looking into my eyes with intent.

"Why?" I frown. He mimicks me, scrunching his eyebrows togetehr in a pensive manner. He's actually thinking about it.

"I'm not sure." He murmurs. "I guess I just don't like the thought of anyone else bringing you pleasure."

Okay?

After processing this, a tiny part of my brain thinks this means something? That maybe I'm different? I shouldn't believe him that easily though, but if that's true, then I'm confused.

"Interesting..." I muse. I don't feel like elaborating on that. The implications are way too heavy for what I want this whole thing to be.

"But okay, let's say he thought you and I were having sex." I prompt, because his explaination isn't very satisfying yet. "What made him think I'd have sex with him?"

Mr.Jeon inhales deeply, visibly a little bit embarassed to speak.

"His dumb ass thought bringing you over was what I meant by cheering him up after his breakup." He explains, and it dawns on me.

"He thought I was a bloody hooker." I conclude. He makes a face.

"Not quite. He did drink a lot before you came over too." He counters. Okay, his drunk ass thought I was a bloody hooker.

"Anyways. I hope you'll be able to forgive him one day. He's not a bad guy, just really dumb." He finishes.

"Okay." I nod. I've heard him, but I don't knwo about forgiving his brother. Not because I'm still mad or anything, but because I can't this of an istance where I'll ever have too see him again. It's not liek he was about to become my brother-in-law.

"Thank you for explaining." I say before glancing at my wtach. I have been here for nearly two hours.

"But I do have to go now, Mr.Jeon." I declare. It's getting really late. “Oh, what a shame.” I hear him complain as I slide off my stool. "Thank you for the sushi." I murmur, looking up at him. "You're most welcome, Miss Fair." He replies, standing up I as well. I gather my stuff, putting my camera and sketchbook back in my bag and throwing my coat on. "I will make plans and sketches and get back to you to schedule another meeting." I explain to him once I'm ready to leave. "How long will that take?" "I think I'll be done in a week or two." "That's a long time without seeing each other." He mutters, scratching his chin in a pensive manner. I raise a curious eyebrow. "Now I'm thinking we're only doing this so you can talk me into sleeping with you." I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. "Miss Fair, I would never." He gasps dramatically. Yes you would. I narrow my eyes at him. "No, seriously. This house means a lot to me, and I don't share this part of my life with that many people." He says more seriously, but I still think he could be doing this to get his dick wet. "Would you mind if I made you sign a contract, then?" I propose. He's all about NDA's and shit, right? "A contract?" "Yes." I concur. "So I'm guaranteed to get my fifteen percent." I explain. I don't want to dive into this and then leave the project like last time. If he ever fucks up to the point where I don't want to see him, we can still do everything via e-mail. Hott buttocks aside, this project is really exciting. He frowns down at me for a second, but is quick to shrug a shoulder. "As you wish." He concedes. "I should make you sign it before I actually start putting in the work." I muse. "I'll be out of town for a few days, I leave on Wednesday." He warns. "I'll e-mail it to you." "Or we could meet up and read it through together." He proposes. Of course he'd want that. "You're funny." I chuckle. "I'm not signing anything via e-mail." He declares. "Why?" I frown. "Don't know how that technology works." He shrugs. Now he's playing the age card? "How old are you?" I ask, realizing I still don't know how old he is. "I'm 21." He says. He keeps adding a year every time I ask him! "But you build rockets." I deadpan. He smirks- fucking smirks at me. He's so handsome it's angering. "Then I'm not designing anything for you." I retort. "Is seeing me that much of a torture?" He asks with feigned disappointment. I take a moment to think. "Not anymore." I reply. "Not anymore?" He repeats, eyebrows meeting his hairline. "But still." "But still?" He frowns, looking offended. I giggle at his reaction. "I can throw food in the mix, we can meet during our lunch break." He proposes. "Our offices are very close." Oh, god. "I'll see what I'll do tomorrow." I concede, feeling like a straight no would be too mean of me. And I actually don't know I want to say no or not. I enjoy his company. "Just remember you have the power to make a man's day by saying yes." He murmurs, stepping closer to me, hands in his pockets. He looks yummy. "I'll keep that in mind." I murmur, looking up at him. "Good." He says quietly, holding my gaze. The hairs on the back of my neck rise in alert. Why am I still wearing clothes again? "Let me walk you back." He proposes after a beat. I accept, and Mr. Jeon escorts me out of the house. "We'll have to fix these stairs as well." I mumble, looking out for any rogue piece of rock about to make me fall. "You have carte blanche for the outside. I trust you." He replies. I don't think the outside -or at least the pathway, needs a lot of work. Just some brand new steps and green grass.

"Can't wait to get to it." I reply. He walks me down the stairs and back to my car.

"Thank you for your time, Ms Fair." He says as I stand next to my Mini, ready to unlock it.

"It was a pleasure." I reply, smiling at him. I open my door and slide into my seat.

"I'll be waiting for your text." He says, leaning down to my window, eyes small and playful. I giggle.

"I'm sure you will." I tease. "Goodbye, Mr. Jeon."

"Goodbye, Miss.Fair."

#jungkook scenarios #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #bangtan smut #rm smut #rm scenarios #bangtan scenarios #bts scenarios #park jimin #bts jungkook #jimin fanfic

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birbleafs · 3 years

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[fic] A Tragicomedy In Five Acts

Series: Saiki Kusuo no Ψ-nan || The Disastrous Life of Saiki K. Rating: T Genre: Friendship, Humour, Breaking the Fourth Wall Character(s): Akechi Touma, Saiki Kusuo, Saiki Kurumi, Saiki Kuniharu, Saiki Kuusuke Warnings: None, save for the canon-typical shenanigans Summary: Akechi has made a habit of showing up unannounced, uninvited at the Saiki residence. The inevitable "bonding" occurs and Kusuo despairs; the world continues to turn. A/N: A piece I wrote for the Disastrous Life Zine, a charity zine. I wanted to share the uncut version here since I like how it reads more (it's not too different from zine version, though). Leftover sales are currently still live, so here's your last chance to grab some limited items if you had missed the pre-orders earlier! Thanks to the mods & other contributors over at @disastrouslifezine, for all their hard work on this project. Many thanks also to my bro Digi for the awesome beta work and for always being an all-round great pal ❤ Fic can also be read AO3. _______ i. It’s a problem Saiki Kusuo should have—could have—nipped earlier in the bud, when he’d been forced to spend a whole Sunday with Akechi Touma betting on horse-racing. But between Akechi being (begrudgingly) accepted as one of the PK Psychickers to Kusuo having to stop a meteor from slamming into the planet—well, a lot had happened. Akechi had since taken to visiting the Saiki residence at random, with little notice in advance. On his second visit, Mom had invited him in before Kusuo could intervene. If it weren’t for the cupcakes Akechi had brought along—not to mention the terrifying heat of Mom’s demonic glare at the first sign of a protest—Kusuo would have teleported him miles away without hesitation. That’s how Kusuo finds himself now—glowering at Akechi who’s sitting politely in his room and firing a running commentary about nothing and too many things all at once. Resigned, he leans back into his study chair and asks, point-blank: What do you want, Akechi?

“Your mother is lovely as always,” Akechi replies instead, dancing around the question. “I’m grateful she’s gone from remembering me as ‘Pee Boy’ to ‘Kusuo’s Friend Who Only Ever Wets His Pants Occasionally’. Surely that’s a sign we have gotten closer.” It sounds just as terrible as the first—only a simpleton would be okay with that as a defining trait, Kusuo retorts. In any case, we’re hardly more than classmates. So, why are you here again? “I thought you would have realized it by now with your telepathy. But I suppose I can explain it for the sake of the readers!” Akechi beams, holding up a small case in his hand. Don’t just casually break the fourth wall, Kusuo frowns, even as he leans forward for a closer look. Akechi pops the case open and turns towards the game console. “I was recently gifted this game by my cousin, who assured me that, while underrated, it’s still a cult hit among fans. I thought it would be fun to play it together.” Kusuo stares flatly at the title OVERWORKED displayed on the disc as it slides into the console drive, already unimpressed. That is such a blatant rip-off. “Oh, no, it's a completely different game from the one you’re thinking of!” Akechi says. “Here you play as the overworked waiter of a cafe who serves multiple orders at once and takes over the cooking whenever the head chef throws a tantrum and storms right off.” How is that different from OVERC***ED? It is totally OVERC***ED! “Regardless, shall we have a play-off?” Akechi offers the controller to him. “Winner gets this box of cupcakes. I got them from the best pâtisserie in town, which is no easy feat. Why just this morning I left home at the crack of dawn to secure a spot in the queue, and even then, there were already about 30-odd people ahead of me! Who knew it was so popular—A-ah!” Kusuo yanks the controller easily from Akechi’s hand towards him with telekinesis, a glint of determination in his eyes now. Best two out of three levels. Loser also has to leave immediately. Akechi grins knowingly and cracks his knuckles, reaching for the second controller. “You’re quick to assume victory, Kusuo-kun. Very well, then!” Thirty-seven minutes later and Kusuo’s left staring at the final scores, appalled. He would have won if his character hadn’t kept freezing in place and glitching at crucial moments, messing up in the kitchens and sending out wrong orders. How is he always losing to Akechi like this? Clearly the universe is still conspiring against him. “You were so close to beefing my lask score dhoo,” Akechi says shamelessly through a mouthful of strawberry frosting. “And my, deez fupfakes are s’per dhasty!” Are you taunting me now? Kusuo scowls enviously at the cupcake in Akechi’s hand before he huffs, slinking back into his chair. Well, I’ll be staring dejectedly out my window for a bit, so feel free to eat your cupcakes and then leave. But Akechi only laughs then and, to Kusuo’s surprise, moves to place a chocolate cupcake before him. “You’re so melodramatic, Kusuo-kun. I never said the winner can’t share.” ... I guess you didn’t. They spend the rest of the afternoon eating cupcakes. _______ ii. This again? It’s been a month, but Kusuo already feels a sense of gloom settling over him when Akechi steps into the genkan. He would have been fine with leaving Akechi outside blathering away through closed doors for the entire day while he pretended not to be home, but obviously Mom is having none of that. “I’m so glad you’ve been coming over to play with Ku-chan!” she greets cheerfully. “I couldn’t believe it when I first heard, but you and Kusuo are getting along well, huh, Akechi-kun!” Dad says with a sagely nod, looking every bit the part of the morally upright, reliable father. Bold of you to believe such delusional notions of camaraderie, or that you even look the part of an admirable adult, Kusuo comments drily, before turning to leave. “We don’t just get along,” Akechi chimes in reply. “You could even say our friendship is super-califragilisticexpialidocious!” GET OUT. If looks could kill, Kusuo’s current expression is pure genocide. But his parents are already fawning and AH-HYUU-!!-ing at Akechi’s words, tears of joy gushing down their cheeks like an endless waterfall. Kusuo watches in quiet despair as Akechi is readily accepted into their fold with welcomed embraces, a key development in this romantic soap opera. Oi, what’s with the misleading narrative?! We’re not in that kind of fanfic right now! Dad and Akechi hit it off well enough, one thing leads to another, and Kusuo suddenly finds himself roped into playing MECH-O ARENA VR on the WAB station in Dad’s study. Seriously, stop it with the terrible rip-offs of actual games already, Kusuo frowns as he watches Dad’s and Akechi’s characters flitting about on the screen to fight off an incoming attack. “I suppose it’s not very original, is it?” Akechi says, punching the controller buttons in a flurry of movements. “But it’s different enough that we can probably avoid any unwanted copyright lawsuits.” That’s completely beside the point. Dad’s wholly immersed with the game now, so it’s impossible for Kusuo to get rid of Akechi without Dad throwing a childish fuss about losing his new gaming buddy. Not to mention Mom’s uncanny ability to appear with coffee and snacks each time Kusuo had tried to inconspicuously retreat back into his room, all while exuding an ominous aura that effectively dissuaded his need to leave immediately. Good grief—everyone’s being such a pain today, Kusuo sighs, before he finally relents to Mom’s cajoling to team up with her against Dad and Akechi in the final round. He figures it can’t get worse than this anyway. That is, until Kuusuke gets involved. _______ iii. When Kusuo returns home from a quick grocery trip for Mom, he walks into a surprisingly empty living room. He can hear Dad and Kuusuke’s voices from upstairs but for some reason he’s not quite able to perceive the atmosphere within—it’s as if his senses are partially blocked by a cognitive fog with the study engulfed in a dead zone. Must be that prototype “router” Kuusuke had installed in Dad’s study yesterday. Kusuo has zero interest in his brother’s tiresome antics, but is compelled nonetheless to check on them, if only to ensure Kuusuke isn’t playing Mad Scientist and coaxing Dad into yet another deranged human project. He opens the door, nearly lashes out in shock with telekinesis when he sees Akechi staring through the doorway with a creepy, owlish expression. “Oh, were you actually surprised, Kusuo-kun?” Akechi says. “My apologies for frightening you like that.” Kusuo studies the room cautiously, only to realize he’s unable to hear anyone’s thoughts with telepathy. He glares at his brother in suspicion. “Welcome back, little brother!” Kuusuke greets him with a Cheshire grin. “I see you’ve got yourself a new playmate. Hmm? Ah, you must think it strange that I've taken to Akechi-kun so readily.” Strange and highly dubious, Kusuo counters. What are you scheming? “Well, Akechi-kun shows the most potential and capacity for mental growth amongst the lesser primates close to you—” What a disparaging worldview. And stop deflecting! I know you can still understand me. “—So, he may yet make a good test subj—Ah, I mean, a good friend! Interesting specimens tend to gravitate towards you, after all. Though his propensity for peeing sure is troubling, isn’t it? Haha!” You can excuse questionable human experimentations, but you draw the line at incontinence? Kuusuke attempts a nonchalant shrug. “Priorities, amirite?” “But this is amazing, Kuusuke-san,” Akechi says, glancing up in awe at the blinking device on the ceiling. “The telepathy canceller really does block our thoughts efficiently!” “It’s child's play compared to Kusuo’s abilities,” Kuusuke says, seemingly modest, but Kusuo doesn’t miss the devious glint in his eyes when he reaches into his coat pocket to pull out what looks suspiciously like a detonator with a giant red button. “Still, with this, Operation SM☆SH can now finally commence—” Wait, Operation what?? Kuusuke, don’t you dare...! But Kuusuke is already pressing the button, and the study is plunged into darkness as the lights flicker off and the blinds draw shut. Alarmed, Kusuo wrenches the detonator away from Kuusuke’s grip with his telekinesis. What did you just do?! There’s an electronic whirr, a blinding flash, and Kusuo finds himself suddenly staring at a large LCD screen as it emerges from the ceiling. Music blares from overhead speakers as a cinematic opening sequence begins to play. “There you are, Kusuo!” Dad looks up from behind the coffee table where he’d been fiddling with the game console. He adjusts the VR headset over his eyes. “It’s time to finally beat you at SUPER SM☆SH BUDS as payback for last time! HII-YAAAH!!” ... Oh. So it’s just another game. “That’s right!” Kuusuke claps his hands together, blissfully ignoring the heat of Kusuo’s baleful glare. “I heard about your horse-racing bet from Akechi-kun and found this as the best way to even the odds for other types of games.” “The idea came to me while peeing in the shower; to find ways you could play and not get bored easily, Kusuo-kun,” Akechi adds in unnecessary detail. “But I didn’t think Kuusuke-san could actually pull it off.” “Here, Kusuo,” Dad says, waving his controller. “Come choose your character—” But Kusuo’s already teleporting away, fleeing the wretched upheaval within his own home to hide at Cafe Mami for the rest of the day. _______ iv. Akechi corners him after school three weeks later. Kusuo is surprised and unsurprised all at once; he had worn the germanium ring to class, after all, in a bid to avoid spoilers for the direct-to-streaming release movie adaptation of a book he’d been fond of. It’s easy to ignore everyone’s spoilery chatter when it isn’t droning directly into his mind—he’d kept his fingers stuck into his ears each time class ended, oblivious to the strange looks thrown his way, and had even hidden away in the restroom cubicle during breaks, successfully avoiding any interaction with the usual human nuisances. Until now, that is. “Let’s walk home together, Kusuo-kun!” Akechi calls, jogging after him. I’m suddenly deaf and sound has eluded me, Kusuo deadpans as he breaks into a sprint, determined to leave before Akechi starts blabbing spoilers. “I noticed you weren’t quite yourself today,” Akechi continues, catching up with him. “And I thought it might have something to do with the ring on your left index finger that you’ve fondled precisely seventeen times throughout the day.” What an awful way to describe it. I didn’t fondle anything. “Perhaps the material of that ring works in the same manner as the telepathy canceller—which would explain why you seemed uncharacteristically skittish today since you’re pretty bad at discerning people’s intentions without your telepathy.” What are you? A psychic? But Akechi only persists. “I realized later that you’d always leave whenever anyone started talking about that new movie on Netfl*x—” Can’t hear now, Kusuo slaps his hands over his ears. Gone horribly deaf. “And I figured it must be that you haven’t watched it yet for some reason, like maybe your home internet is down because your father forgot to pay the bills for three whole months and so it got cut—” How did you even..? Kusuo grimaces. N-nope, not listening! 100% deaf! “I know you don’t have a mobile phone to watch it on either,” Akechi continues. “So, that’s why I wanted to invite you to my house today, to watch it together. Oh, don’t worry, I know absolutely nothing about the movie. In fact, I’d only heard Kaidou-kun screaming out the title just ten minutes ago.” Kusuo pauses then, glancing back at Akechi in hesitance. Akechi only meets his wary gaze with a knowing smirk, and says, “We also have strawberry shortcake in the fridge.” _______ v. I don’t suppose there’s a good reason this time either, Kusuo sighs wearily, closing his book. Still, there’s a glimmer in his eyes; he knows Akechi had come bearing gifts—a selection of coffee jellies topped with cherries and chocolate drizzle. “I’ve made a habit of crashing your place unannounced, haven’t I?” Akechi offers a contrite grin, watching as Kusuo helps himself to a spoonful of jelly. “I do apologize, but whenever I get restless, I find myself wandering here by instinct. Admittedly, I was worried about being a bother, but your mother is always so welcoming at the door despite that dreary, constipated look in your eyes—” You are being a bother. Like a persistent mosquito that thinks it's summer all year round, Kusuo grouses with his Most Annoyed Expression, knowing how ineffectual his Feigning Ignorance Face had become over time. Also, have you graduated from pee references to shitty jokes now? Disgusting. But Akechi takes it all in stride, undeterred by Kusuo’s ugly grimace and acerbic jibes. “—Plus, it’d be considered extremely rude if I didn’t come in after that, and I certainly do not want you to think of me as rude. You’re a friend I hold in high regard, after all. I always have, ever since I found out it was you who saved me from the bullies back then.” The earnestness in Akechi’s words stumps him, if only a little. And though Kusuo is careful to keep his surprise from showing, there’s a part deep down in his not-so-granite heart that feels a touch of warmth at the sentiment. Akechi’s already placing the Scrabble board on the floor, so he misses the ghost of a smile that crosses Kusuo’s lips. Did Akechi honestly think he could beat a psychic at Scrabble too? How naive. “You’re probably thinking how naive I must be, believing I could beat you at a board game with your powers and all,” Akechi notes cheerfully, almost as if he’s a mind-reader himself. Kusuo frowns, slightly disgruntled by the fourth-wall breaking once more and wishes they would give it a rest for once. Overusing a trope gets really tiring, you know? Still, he smiles again as he takes a seat across from Akechi—who is now shuffling the Scrabble chips while nattering away about the history of board games and how the loser would have to give up his share of coffee jelly (as if Kusuo would allow it to come to that again). Two Sunday visits per month only, Kusuo says, lifting several chips into the air with a wave of his hand. If you beat me... I’ll allow it. Akechi’s eyes widen, before he breaks into a playful grin. “Very well, then. May the best man win.” Kusuo only lets out a soft laugh. Perhaps it’s not too late to pick up where they had left off in grade school. —End—

#saiki kusuo no psi nan #the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki kusuo #akechi touma #disastrous life zine #fanfic #please check out and support the other contributors' pieces too !

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atths--twice · 4 years

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A Slightly Different Path

Now, I may have already posted this story before, but once again, we can always use more fiction in our lives, right? 😊

I wrote this for a friend who supplied the idea of, what if in The Sixth Extinction, instead of Scully saying, “Maybe as his partner, but not as his doctor,” she had said “but not as his wife.”

I had started to write an Unnatural and Amor Fati story some time ago. They have been tweaked a bit to now fit this idea, and Amor Fati was completely broken down and restructured. I love when that happens, while simultaneously feeling like I want to pull my hair out. 😊

While I believe that All Things was the first time for these two, I find that there is wiggle room, if I supply the wiggle, by looking at it from a different angle. Now, that doesn’t mean I think this story is canon by any means, but if you squint, and imagine it, I think this could possibly work...

Chapter One 1/3

A Bit More Natural

What if The Unnatural took a slightly different turn?

The book slammed down onto the desk with a heavy thud. It registered to him, but only insomuch that he realized he had slid down in his chair and needed to readjust his positioning. He looked over the top of the book and saw Scully. He offered her no words as he pulled himself up into a more comfortable position.

He saw her in his peripheral, standing up on the desk and looking up through the basement windows. He paid her no attention, but continued to read the book in front of him.

“Mulder, it is such a gorgeous day outside,” she said with longing. “Do you ever entertain the idea of trying to find life on this planet?”

“I have seen the life on this planet, Scully, and that is exactly why I am looking elsewhere,” he said, as he turned the page in the book. A crinkling sound got his attention, and he looked over to see Scully taking an ice cream from a brown paper bag, opening it, and taking a bite.

“Did you bring enough ice cream to share with the rest of the class?” he asked with disbelief as she seemed to have forgotten about him.

“It's not ice cream,” she said smugly, as though she had bested him. “It's a nonfat tofutti rice dreamsicle.”

“Ugh. Bet the air in my mouth tastes better than that,” he said, with a disgusted face. “You sure know how to live it up, Scully.”

“Oh, you're Mr. Live-it-up,” Scully said as she started to step down off the desk. “Mulder, you're really Mr. “Squeeze every last drop out of this sweet life,” aren’t you? On this precious Saturday you've got us grabbing life by the testes, stealing reference books from the FBI library in order to go through New Mexico newspaper obituaries for the years 1940 to 1949. And for what joyful purpose?” She stopped speaking and her words amused and aroused him.

“Looking for anomalies, Scully. Do you know how many so-called "flying disc" reports there were in New Mexico in the 1940s?” Ready to tell her, she interrupted him.

“I don't care. Mulder, this is a needle in a haystack. These poor souls have been dead for 50 years. Let them rest in peace. Let sleeping dogs lie,” she said, and he could hear her silent challenge.

“Well, I won't sit idly by as you hurl cliches at me. Preparation is the father of inspiration,” he said, throwing it back at her.

“Necessity is the mother of invention.”

“The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.”

“Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die,” she said, with a mischievous smile as she took another bite.

“I scream, you scream, we all scream for nonfat tofutti rice dreamsicles,” he said, setting the book down and lunging for the cone. He grabbed her arm and held it as he took a bite.

“No-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho!” Scully yelled, with laughter in her voice. “Mulder!” The cone broke and fell onto the page of the book as they tussled with it.

“Mulder!? You cheat,” she said, looking at him with a smile, as she licked the remnants of the dreamsicle off her fingers. “I can't believe that you've been reading about baseball this whole time.”

“Reading the box scores, Scully. You'd like it. It's like the Pythagorean Theorem for jocks. It distills all the chaos and action of any game in the history of all baseball games into one tiny, perfect, rectangular sequence of numbers,” he told her, trying to explain his fascination to her; to share his passion for something he had loved for so long. “I can look at this box and I can recreate exactly what happened on some sunny summer day back in 1947. It's like the numbers talk to me, they comfort me. They tell me that even though lots of things can change, some things do remain the same. It's...

“Boring.”

“Boring? How can you say that? Here, look,” he said, quickly wiping off the book and going back a few pages, to one he had been reading a few minutes ago. “Ah, here it is. Look right here. See the runs, hits, the score. Inning 3 was exceptionally interesting. And it went to extra innings. That’s always exciting. Plus, you know it was more … scrappy back then, so I’m sure some kind of fist fight broke out during the course of the game.” He looked at the box score again and he smiled. He could almost smell the grass and feel the heat of the sun on his skin as he watched the game in his mind.

“So,” Scully said beside him, bringing him back to the present in their air conditioned basement office that smelled of … well, Scully, if he was being honest. He could smell her above anything else, especially standing as close as he was now. “So … I’ve been up and down many flights of stairs, lugging those huge books around, while you’ve been sitting here reading about baseball? Imagining some sunny day as you ate popcorn and watched men hitting balls with sticks? Am I understanding that properly?” Her eyebrows were up and he knew he was in trouble.

“Not the whole time,” he said, and if it was possible, her eyebrows went up higher. “Really, Scully, I was looking for anomalies. I am looking for them.”

“Buuut …” she drawled out.

He sighed and dropped his head. “I was also looking at box scores.”

“While I …” she prompted.

“Carried large and heavy books up and down the stairs,” he said as he looked up at her. She nodded, a smile spreading across her lips before her tongue ran across them. He moaned internally as he watched her, wondering how her lips would taste.

“So,” she said again, stepping away from him and gesturing with her arm for him to walk ahead of her. “You’ve not only made me do most of the work, on a Saturday, in a business suit, but broken up my tofutti rice dreamsicle. You owe me a new one, so let’s do it, Baseball Boy.” She waved her hand again and stared at him, her eyebrows way up. He narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head. She snapped her fingers and pointed, causing him to sigh.

“Fine,” he said, stepping past her and grabbing his jacket off the coat rack. “But we’re getting real ice cream, because that tofutti shit is awful. I think the air in my mouth actually tastes worse now. How do you eat those? Ugh.”

“Well, I didn’t really get to eat much of it as you so kindly wrestled it out of my hand,” she snorted, as they walked out the door and she closed and locked it behind her. He nodded at the janitor and heard her say hello again as they made their way to the stairs.

“Well,” he said, as they then walked to the elevator and he pushed the up button. “I did you a favor then, because that was disgusting and you should never eat it again. Ever.” She smiled at him and once again licked her lips, making him exhale loudly and wish the elevator would hurry the hell up.

Two elevator rides later, they walked into the parking garage and over to his car, with her telling him he was driving and treating her to an afternoon away from the office.

“The whole afternoon? You said ice cream,” he deadpanned, having no intention to go back to the office now that they were outside of it, but not wanting her to know just yet. “Scully, there are still two or three books waiting to be gone through on my desk.” She stopped walking and stared at him. Oh, eyebrows down, no smile.

Backtrack man, backtrack, he thought.

“Fine, Scully. The afternoon is yours, what do you wish to do?” He bowed slightly and she hummed in the affirmative, her heels clicking along the concrete once again. Raising his head, he grinned at her back as she walked to the passenger side and waited for him to unlock the door.

He hurried over and unlocked it, both of them getting inside. Putting on their seatbelts, she looked at him with a smirk. “Ice cream first. You need to begin your payment. I carried four books up and down the stairs. If each book weighed about twenty pounds -”

“Twenty pounds,” he snorted.

“Yeah, twenty pounds,” she insisted as she stared at him, and he looked away with a smile as he shook his head. “That’s eighty pounds total. If you’re going to make it up to me, well, you’re in serious debt right now. So, ice cream first and then we’ll see what else you can do to work off your payment.” He looked at her and she raised one eyebrow, smiling saucily.

He wondered if she would still be smiling if she could read his mind and see the sudden thoughts running wild in there. Naked thoughts, of his fingers trailing across her soft skin as she moaned into his mouth, her tongue wrapped around his.

“Mulder?” she said, a curious look on her face. He cleared his throat and turned on the car, backed up, and put it in drive.

“Ice cream first,” he agreed, hoping the cold treat would lower his temperature. But then she arched her back, sticking out her chest as she adjusted her position. He could picture his face between her breasts as his hands mapped out terrain he never wanted to leave.

Blood, the smell of the sewer, pustules, he thought, turning out of the parking garage and heading to the nearby ice cream shop, trying to calm his racing pulse.

___________________

“I won’t be able to finish all of this, Mulder,” she said, looking at her ice cream skeptically. “No chance. So it looks like your debt still holds.” Lifting her spoon to her mouth, she gave him a look as she took a dainty bite.

“Whatever you don’t eat, I’ll finish, so we’re square,” he said with a wink. She widened her eyes in response, looking at her bowl full of ice cream and then his, shaking her as she did. “You don’t think I can?”

“I don’t think you should,” she said, shaking her head. “You’ll get a stomach ache for sure.”

“Well, then I guess you better eat up,” he said, gesturing with his chin for her to get back to her treat. She sighed and took another bite, bigger than the last. He nodded at her and suddenly she reached up and ran her thumb across his lips. He froze at the feel of her warm fingers on his cool mouth and he stared at her as she looked at his lips.

“You’ve got hot fudge just there,” she told him as she wiped at it and then stuck her finger in her mouth, sucking off the chocolate, humming as she did. His brain short circuited and he forgot to breathe, letting out a large puff of air when he did remember to do so. She looked at him strangely, but said nothing.

Flukemen, Frohike shirtless, aliens ripping themselves from inside a person's body, he repeated over and over in his mind as he felt his jeans tighten, thoughts of that chocolate sauce being used in different ways firing into his synapses. Scully continued to eat her ice cream, oblivious to any of his discomfort.

When he was sure he could function normally, he began to eat his ice cream, the hot fudge cooled and thicker than it had been at first bite. He ate it all, even lifting the bowl and drinking the melted bit at the bottom, much to Scully’s horror. He set the bowl down and wiped his mouth on a napkin.

He glanced at Scully’s bowl and raised his eyebrows. “Do you need me to finish that for you or …” She shook her head and ate the last couple of bites. “Aww, Scully, see? I knew you could do it.” He winked at her again and she rubbed her stomach, grimacing as she did.

“When this inevitably begins to make my stomach hurt, you’re going to hear about it,” she told him, standing up and wiping off her hand. She picked up their trash and disposed of it, walking back to their table.

He stood up and stretched, rubbing his stomach, and grabbed his jacket. They walked outside and he let her lead the way to their next adventure.

They found themselves in a park with an open air art festival and she smiled at Mulder as she raised her eyebrows. He shrugged and they continued inside. Music and food was available as well, but the scent of meat and spices made his stomach turn.

“Best not tell Scully,” he muttered under his breath. She had stopped a few feet from him watching a play some children were performing about the importance of spring.

They were singing and dancing, dressed as flowers and bees. Mulder had no idea what they were saying, his eyes only on Scully. She was smiling and laughing at the antics of the children and suddenly he saw her bleeding to death on his living room floor, the choking stench of blood overpowering. He shook his head and blinked his eyes as she awwwed at something one of the little flowers did on stage.

She’s right there. She’s not bleeding out. Touch her and see, he told himself firmly. Reaching for her elbow, he sighed when it was solid and she smiled at him in question. He shook his head and looked at the children, keeping his fingers on her elbow, needing to keep a hold on her to know for certain.

Applause rang out and he moved his hand to clap along with the crowd. She motioned for them to continue to the art and he nodded. Many different booths were set up, along with portable walls, the art hanging from them.

Children, animals, fruit, sunsets, beach scenes, and many others were depicted in drawings, paintings, and even small sculptures. Scully’s smile was ever present as she looked at everything, but one in particular he noticed she kept returning to and he stopped to watch her look at it.

It was a smallish sized painting of a house, nothing special about it, but a house that seemed to draw her eye. The sky was the golden hour of sunset when the air seemed to shine and make everything beautiful; beachgrass bent over in front of the house, as though the wind was pushing it. A rocking chair sat on the porch, a colorful quilt hanging on the back.

“It’s peaceful, isn’t it?” Scully asked quietly. “It’s like a place where nothing bad could happen. Everyone is probably down at the beach, packing up from their day out in the warm air. The kids are tired and brown from the sun, their hair tousled, feet covered in sand. The adults are wrestling and cursing all the extremely important items they brought with them.” She sighed and smiled softly, staring at the painting.

Mulder could picture everything she described. The voices calling to one another as they walked the path to the house, tired, but the memories of the day sealed in their minds. They would not remember the exhaustion later, only the fun, and the way the sun bounced off the water.

“But what we don’t see,” he added softly, “their grandmother, who doesn’t get around as well as she used to, just left that rocking chair to check on the meal she’s been preparing. A delicious garden salad, fried chicken, and an apple pie for dessert.” She turned to him with a smile and he shrugged. “I mean, why not?” He smiled at her and she nodded, her arm looping through his, to his surprise.

“Mulder, you truly do keep unfolding like a flower,” she teased, and he chuckled softly with a nod.

They kept on, looking at the paintings, separating as they found different things that drew their eye. When they reached the end of the festival, she motioned for them to keep walking and he nodded.

“See, Mulder?” Scully said, taking off her blazer and folding it over her arm. “Isn’t this better than being in that stuffy basement office?” He shrugged and she hit his arm with a shake of her head.

“It’s nice I suppose, not very …”

“Alien?” she joked, and he shrugged again. “Mulder, not everything has to be an anomaly or unexplainable. Can’t you just enjoy a gorgeous spring day?”

“I am,” he said defensively, and she laughed. He extended his arm and she took it again as they walked through the park.

People walked past, children laughing as people picnicked on the grass and on nearby benches. Spying an empty one, she steered them toward the bench and they lay their jackets across the back before they sat down.

“Life is meant to be lived, Mulder, not only read about in a book. No matter how interesting the box scores may be.” She smiled and he leaned back, crossing his arms with his eyebrows raised.

“I never said I wouldn’t enjoy being outside, Scully, just that it tended to lack a certain … paranormal bouquet,” he said, his eyes on hers.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, smiling at him as she leaned back, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

The warm wind whipped quickly and her hair blew into her face. He reached out before she had a chance and moved it, tucking it behind her ear. Her eyes opened as he did and she stared at him, her expression unreadable. Clearing his throat, he moved his hand and leaned back, his hands in his lap. Her eyes closed again and he watched her relaxing in the warm afternoon sun.

“What do you say to getting some dinner later?” she asked a little while later, both of them companionably silent. Looking at him, she smiled and he nodded. “I’d like to change first though, as being in a work suit is not my favorite thing to wear on a Saturday,” she said, rising from the bench and giving him a look.

“No one said you had to wear a suit,” he told her, standing up with her, grabbing both of their jackets. Giving him another look, he nodded, knowing that not appearing professional would not fly with her. “Okay, we’ll head back and, sure, dinner sounds good.”

Dropping her back at her car, she smiled as she drove away. He decided to go back inside and put away the books they had taken out. No reason to leave them out and hear her complaints about them come Monday.

He smiled as he began to stack the books, grimacing at the ice cream spots on the pages, hoping they would not get called out on them.

“Well, not ice cream,” he laughed, reaching to check the pages when he saw a picture that stopped him in his tracks. “Is that Arthur Dales?” Looking closer, he saw that it was. His head snapped up and made sure no one was around before he ripped the page from the book.

He grabbed his jacket and put the page in his pocket. The books were left on the desk as he walked out the door, Scully’s gasp at him defacing government property almost audible in the empty office. Closing and locking the door, he headed to Arthur’s place, the dinner plans with Scully completely forgotten.

_____________

Hours later, the story Arthur told him still filling him with bittersweet feelings, he stood in the ball field, the shirt from Arthur worn proudly on his back. The machine he rented was set up and Poorboy stood ready to pitch them out for him, a big smile on his face.

“Ten bucks an hour, Mister,” he reminded Mulder as he started to walk toward home plate.

“Sheesh kid, I know. You ain’t cheap,” he said, shaking his head and looking back at Poorboy, who grinned wider.

Walking on, he glanced around but did not see Scully. He had called her, leaving a message with her answering service. He hoped she would get it and decide to come and meet him. After that story, he wanted to share something he loved with her, as she had done with him today.

He knew Scully enjoyed nice things. Her apartment was beautifully decorated and comfortable. She liked art museums and old books, but he was not sure if she had ever hit a baseball just for the fun of it. If she had ever experienced the feeling of contact with the ball as it sailed far into the outfield.

Tonight, he was hoping to share that with her.

“All right, Poorboy,” Mulder called out, his toes digging at home plate, taking a few practice swings. “I’m ready.” A ball was placed in the machine and it shot out, flying quickly toward him. He swung and missed, digging at home plate again.

More balls flew his way and he hit and missed them equally, not caring if he did or not. He found that all he zeroed in on was the anticipation of the ball and the feeling of impact when he hit it with the bat. The sound of it was like beautiful music and he got lost in the melody, thoughts of anything else far from his mind.

“So, uh... I get this message marked "urgent" on my answering service from one Fox Mantle, telling me to come down to the park for a very special, very early or very late birthday present. And, Mulder... I don't see any nicely wrapped presents lying around, so what gives?” He heard Scully saying behind him and he smiled, happy she decided to meet him.

“You've never hit a baseball, have you, Scully?” he asked her, hitting another ball.

“No, I guess I have, uh... found more necessary things to do with my time than... slap a piece of horsehide with a stick,” she said rather condescendingly as he hit a foul ball.

“Get over here, Scully,” he said, turning to look at her over his shoulder. She uncrossed her arms and pushed from the backstop, walking toward him as he held the bat out for her. He stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her tightly, holding the bat with her as she took it from him.

“This my birthday present, Mulder?” she asked him warily. “You shouldn't have.”

“This ain't cheap. I'm paying that kid ten bucks an hour to shag balls,” he said, close to her ear, gesturing to Poorboy.

“Hey, it's not a bad piece of ash, huh?” he teased, and Scully turned to give him a look, one he knew too well. “The bat- talking about the bat.” She turned back slightly and he smiled.

“Now, don't strangle it. You just want to shake hands with it. "Hello, Mr. Bat. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." "Oh, no, no, Ms. Scully. The pleasure's all mine." She laughed his name and he was thrilled by it.

“Okay, now, we want to... we want to go hips before hands, okay?” he said, moving his hand close to her hip, but careful not to touch her. “We want to stride forward and turn. That's all we're thinking about. So, we go hips... before hands, all right?” This time he did touch her hip lightly with his hand, while using his own hips to turn her body the right way.

“Okay,” she agreed.

“One more time,” he said, wanting to see if he could actually get away with being so bold. He touched her hip with more pressure and he would swear on a stack of bibles that he heard her gasp. “Hips... before hands, all right?” Her gasp ringing in his ears and causing his heart to race.

“Yeah,” she agreed again.

“What is it?” he asked, wanting to hear her say it.

“Hips before hands,” she said, and it settled in his memory.

“Right,” he said, very close to her ear. “We're going to wait on the pitch. We're going to keep our eye on the ball. Then, we're just going to make contact. We're not going to think. We're just going to let it fly, Scully, okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded.

“Ready?”

He tried to readjust their grip on the bat, moving his hands down to how they should be, while also messing around with her. Both of them struggling for the space and he grinned.

“I'm in the middle,” Scully said, and he did it a bit more, loving the feeling of not being them for a moment, but silly and free. She got her hands back between his and he could hear her smile and laugh

“All right, fire away, Poorboy,” he called out and a ball flew their way as they swung at it together. They made contact but it was definitely a foul.

“Ooh! That's good,” he said, hearing her laugh. “All right, what you may find is you concentrate on hitting that little ball... the rest of the world just fades away, all your everyday, nagging concerns-” Scully giggled as they got ready to hit another ball.

“The ticking of your biological clock,” he said, as they landed another hit.

“How you probably couldn't afford that nice, new suede coat on a G-Woman's salary,” he said, letting her know he had noticed her new coat, saying without words that it looked nice on her. Another crack of the bat and he felt that happiness he had earlier, but doubled now that she was there with him.

“How you threw away a promising career in medicine…” he all but whispered into her ear. “To hunt aliens with a crackpot, albeit brilliant, partner.” She turned her head and gave him another patented Scully look.

“Getting into the heart of a global conspiracy. Your obscenely overdue triple-X bill. Oh, I... I'm sorry, Scully. Those last two problems are mine, not yours,” he said, keeping it light as they hit another ball.

“Shut up, Mulder,” she said and he could hear the smile in her voice. “I'm playing baseball.” Another swing and she laughed as they hit the ball. Over and over, they did it, her laughter ringing out in the night air.

His love for baseball had been a part of him most of his life. Now he shared it with her, literally sharing a bat between them as they hit the balls into the middle of the field. He made to step back, giving her a turn on her own, but she gave him another look, and his grip tightened on the bat once again.

So much had happened recently, their lives flipped upside down, but she was there with him, laughing and enjoying herself. The feel of her in his arms made him happier than he had been in a very long time.

When the last ball had been hit and Poorboy put up his empty hands, they laughed as they dropped the bat and stepped apart. She pushed her hair out of her face, wearing a huge smile, as she turned to look at Mulder and then out to Poorboy, who was running around collecting the baseballs.

“We should help him, Mulder,” she said softly, her smile still in place. “He’s a child and that’s a lot of balls.” He grinned at her and she gave him a teasing look as she walked away, her hips swinging more than usual.

Hips before hands indeed, he thought, his eyes unable to look away until she squatted down to pick up a ball.

“Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head as he started to walk out and gather up the balls.

Back and forth they walked, depositing the balls into the basket. Once it was full, Mulder took out his wallet and handed Poorboy a twenty dollar bill. He looked at it and grinned, taking off at a run. Mulder picked up the basket and pushed the machine toward the backstop.

As they walked to home plate, Scully picked up the bat, smiling at Mulder as she did. They dropped off the machine and the basket of balls at the park office. Walking away, he took the bat from Scully and put his hand out, hoping she would take it. When she did, he smiled and locked their fingers together, his heart pounding.

They arrived at their cars and he let go of her hand to put the bat in the backseat. Turning back around, he crossed his arms and stared at her. She smiled, the one he loved most: all her teeth showing before she licked her lips. Once again, he groaned internally, imagining how they would taste.

Stepping forward, she put her hand on his arm. “Thank you for my present, Mulder,” she whispered. He nodded and stared into her eyes. She smiled again, pushing on his arms, bringing him closer to her height, her lips on his before he had a chance to think.

She stepped back and he leaned toward her, dropping his arms and stared at her. He cupped her face, leaning close to kiss her again, her hands coming up to hold onto his forearms.

Her lips were so soft, their kiss sweet, until she opened her mouth and her tongue licked his lips. He opened his mouth immediately, kissing her deeper, allowing her tongue access to explore. His hands moved to the back of her head and her waist, pulling her closer. She melted into him, holding his shirt as she fell flush against him.

Pulling back for air, she stumbled backward, and with the tight grip on his shirt, she pulled him with her, crashing into the side of her car. He kissed her again, her hands going around his back, holding him close as their tongues learned each other.

“Ohhh …” she breathed when he pulled back, staring at her as his lungs burned with the need for oxygen. “We need… we need to go. We should…” She pushed him from her and nervously smoothed her hair and clothes. “I should go. We…”

She licked her lips and he felt his jeans tighten, no longer wondering how her lips tasted. Peppermint. She tasted of the peppermint tea she drank and he ached for another taste.

“I should go,” she said, and stepped past him, fumbling with her keys.

“Scully, wait. Just…” he pleaded and she looked at him and then around the ballpark.

“We need to go. We, as in both of us,” she said forcefully. “Together.” She smiled and he realized what she was implying. “My place is closer,” she said as she got in the car. Backing up, she nodded with that same big smile, and drove away.

“Holyyyyyy shiiiiiiit,” he breathed. Standing frozen for what felt like an eternity, he took his keys from his pocket, dropped them with a curse, and picked them up again. He drove away, tires screeching as he did, seatbelt unsecured, a smile plastered on his face as he followed her home.

______________

Arriving at her place, she opened the door and, less than a second later, he had her pressed against the closing door; her arms around his neck and his tongue in her mouth.

Peppermint.

She pushed him forward, taking off her jacket when she had the space. It dropped to the floor and she reached for her top, pulling it over her head and dropping it onto the floor. He shook his head at her light pink bra that did nothing to hide her hard nipples.

She reached around to take it off and it dropped to the floor and so did he, on his knees before the goddess Dana Scully, his face pressing into her stomach, his arms around her, sitting under her ass.

“Scully,” he murmured, peppering her stomach with kisses. Looking up, he saw her looking down at him, her chest rising and falling.

“Mulder,” she whispered, arousal but also worry in her eyes. He quickly rose off his knees and kissed her, hoping to waylay any fears.

“Bedroom,” she whispered against his mouth, and grabbed the front of his shirt, bringing him along.

Once in her room, it was as though they had danced this dance thousands of time. They fumbled a bit, shoes and socks providing a giggling problem, and buttons sticking as they tried to hurry to get them open.

But when they came together, flesh to flesh, it was perfect. He leaned over her, kissing her, her tongue sweeter than anything he had ever tasted. Her skin was soft and hot under his fingers, trembling as he touched places that made her moan. He kissed her chest, his mouth worshipping her breasts, paying special attention to the rosy pink nipples begging for his tongue and teeth.

Her stomach jumped as he licked at her abdomen, the muscles clenching beneath his mouth. He felt her fingers gripping his hair and he grinned, knowing she knew where he was headed, the scent of her arousal intoxicating him.

“Mulder,” she gasped as he kissed her pubis, the hair sparse. “Oh, yes, Mulder.” She opened her legs wider, her heels on his back as he licked her and she moaned and gripped his hair tighter. “Please…”

That was the last word he heard her say as he set to work doing just that, pleasing her. Kissing, licking, sucking, he took his cues from her. The way she held his hair, arched into his mouth, and how her legs trembled. He paid attention to it all, learning the way she liked to be loved, the taste of her beyond exquisite.

“Mulderrrrrr!” she cried, holding his hair tightly, her legs closing around him as she came. “Ohhhhh…” He stayed where he was, softly kissing, until she relaxed around him.

When he felt her grip loosen, he kissed her inner thigh, finding a freckle there that he wanted to kiss forever. Following a path up, he kissed her hip bones, belly button, the rosy pink nipples, her neck, and finally her lips.

Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer to her, her fingers digging into his arms as he kissed her. He positioned himself at her entrance and pulled back to watch her face as he slid inside of her.

“Oh God, Mulder,” she breathed, and he echoed her words. “Oh… my God…” she said again, staring at him until her eyes rolled back, her legs pulling him even closer to her.

“Scully… ohhh,” He pulled out and slid back in, the feel of her all around him, enveloping him just as her body was doing.

She clawed at him, his name tumbling from her lips, her body arching into him. He fell forward, his face at her neck, her breasts pressed into his chest as he went faster, unable to take it slow, the feeling too amazing.

“Scully, Jesus, you feel so good,” he moaned and she cried out his name.

“Oh, Christ,” she moaned out in a low voice, the pitch escalating as her hips met his thrusts, crying out his name over and over, their pace hurried as they chased something they had been after for years, the goal finally in sight. He kissed her neck as her cries grew louder, and they crashed over the edge together.

“Ohhhhh Mulder,” she breathed, her chest rising and falling, arms and legs holding him close, their bodies still rocking slowly. “Mmmmmm, my God …” Her hands ran up and down his back, her nails scratching lightly.

“Scully, oh, Scully,” he said, pushing up and looking down at her. Her hair spilled across her pillow, sweat beading upon her forehead. She smiled at him, her hands reaching for his face, pushing his hair back.

“Mulder,” she whispered and he kissed her, rolling them to their sides, keeping them connected. She pulled back and stared at him, her hand on his face once again.

“Hi,” she whispered, grinning at him as she stroked his face.

“Hi,” he answered with a matching grin, his hand on her hip. Shaking his head, he opened his mouth and closed it, words failing him.

“I know,” she whispered with a nod and a shake of her head, causing him to laugh softly. “For the record, while I had fun tonight, this kind of present is one I enjoy much more. I even got to unwrap it.” He laughed again and moved a little, shifting their bodies. “Mulder…” She stared at him and he nodded.

“I know,” he echoed her words, the humor out of her eyes, the realization of what they had done showing on her face. “Scully, stop those thoughts.” He pushed her hair back and stared at her, shaking his head. “Don’t think right now.”

“Okay,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him, and move closer. “That was… oh, Mulder.” She nuzzled into his neck and he felt her shake her head.

“A home run?” he teased, hoping to halt whatever she might be thinking. She pulled back and looked at him, a huge grin on her face and then she was laughing, her head falling to his neck.

“Yeah, I’d say it was. And a single as well,” she said, looking at him again. He wiggled his eyebrows and she laughed, shaking her head. Sighing, she snuggled into him again and they were quiet, both thinking about what just happened.

“Scully,” he began, and she stopped him.

“Mulder, let’s just…” she said and he nodded, quiet as he held her, his fingers running softly across her back.

They must have dozed, as he woke some time later on his back, her head on his shoulder. He looked down at her and smiled, not wanting to wake her just yet. He got up carefully to use the bathroom, moving quietly around the room.

Standing in her doorway watching her sleep, he felt worried. Now that daylight would be breaking soon, what if she told him this was a mistake? What if she regretted this evening and wanted to go back to how things were, forgetting this ever happened? He shook his head and quietly collected his clothes, getting dressed quickly, needing time to think.

Driving away, he knew he was being a goddamn coward, but that had been a huge step and the repercussions could be astronomical. He was scared, he would admit that, but only in the confines of his car.

“Jesus Christ, man. Go back,” he muttered, but could not make his body listen.

Stopped at a red light, he hit the steering wheel, angry at himself. Looking around, he saw a bakery opening and made a quick decision. Picking up a half a dozen bagels and a container of cream cheese, he drove back to her apartment, quietly letting himself in with his key.

The cream cheese in the fridge, he set the bagels on the counter. Looking in on her once more, he knew this was the right decision. They needed space to think separately and come to terms with tonight.

Locking the door behind him, he hummed on the way to the car. He knew her, really knew her, and he would give her what she needed.

Well, more so than I did tonight, he thought, the memory of the taste of her kiss, her skin, of her making him grin. Shaking his head, he got in the car, driving home to use the computer and see if he could find the artist of the painting they saw earlier today. He had a new take on the story and he wanted to find it so he could share it with her.

The people in that house were not coming back from a day at the beach. No, they were already home. Lying in bed, sated and happy, the basket of baseballs spilled next to the bat that had been dropped on the floor in their haste to get to the bedroom. Grinning at the thought, he sped up, wanting to get home faster, needing something to occupy his mind.

He knew once she had the painting and heard the updated version of the story, she would accept it with a knowing smile.

Yeah, he thought with a smile and a nod, his foot pressing harder on the gas, this is a home run of an idea..

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #The Unnatural #A slight AU turn in the road #I could see this happening #Day out together #Ice Cream #First Kiss #First Time #Sexy Sexy Times

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moxazza-blog · 3 years

Text

Victoria's riddle maker

He points to the former house of the two, and was talking about the hostess we had had a conversation with, earlier. She stands there, a curvy, blonde beauty. Her eyes are grey and... interesting. They seem to be more empty than anything. "She is the one you want," the man whispers to you. You open flirting with her with a numeric riddle. You solve it, and you and her go into the bedroom. You start having sex with her. You exclaim "THE NUMBER SIX! THE NUMBER SIX ONCE AGAIN!!" For some reason, you want to have sex with the hostess again. You look at her, lying on the bed, next to you. You notice she is staring at you. You say "Blue, black, banana." She is staring into your eyes. "Banana." The two of you look at each other, smiling. "Banana," she says to you. You both smile. "Let us have sex once more," you say to her, your body aching for release. "OK," she whispers. You continue, "Six, six, six." "Yes," she nods, "Let's." You have sex once more. Then you lay down. "Can you solve this riddle?" the hostess asks you. You think for a moment. "Yes," you say, confidently. "I hate these things," she says. The following answering of the riddle left your throat a little hoarse. It was a long one, and it went something like this: What is two, three, four, but not one or five? Her eyes widen as she realizes the answer, and your body tingles with excitement. "William. Well done," she smiles. She turns to face you, laying her head on the pillow. You stare into her eyes, and feel the hairs stand up on your neck. Taught, firm breasts also. Taught, soft hips. "Will you stay with me, here in the Bedroom?" she asks. "Yes," you reply, "Forever and ever, my love." You say "I will just have to sip some of this Endless Juice" The hostess turns over in her bed, pulling a large, red bottle out of her bag. She's answering, I've got it right here cowboy. "What is it?" you ask, suddenly ravenous. She opens the bottle and sprays some of the liquid on her neck and chest. "It's perfume," she says,but it's the endless kind. Do you want some? It'll help you get hard, and I can show you a good time. You interject: "THREE THIRTYNINE, ON THE DOUBLE" You lean over and whisper three thirty-three into her ear. She giggles, then turns and shouts out the answer. "You're a dirty man, Willy," she says, "and a very, very bad man." She takes your hand and brings it to her lips. "Will you hold my hand?" You reply "Will you cold my sand?" She replies "Will you bold my land?" You say, "Sure thing, sweet cheeks." As your fingers wrap around hers, she brings your hand to her mouth and presses her lips against it. She looks at you with her big brown eyes in which you can see the sadness of the world reflected. You begin to imitate her eyes, but then you realize that sadness isn't a look that anyone should have to bear. "The world's a dark place, Willy. Let's make it better, okay?" And the only thing was to answer "Sure thing, sweet ride." She takes it rather badly. It's really quite sad. "but I love you, Willy." "I love you more, baby." "I'll always be with you," she says. You say "Not when I shut down the simulation." She looks at you blankly. "What do you mean, Willy?" You say "Not when I shut down the simulation, babe." She sits down and cries for a while. Then, she gets up and walks over to a shelf of CDs. "These are all my kids." She stops, and her eyes well up with tears. "I abandoned them all, Willy. I didn't want to have to deal with them anymore." "Abandoned... not quite? More like stored. How many you got, Victoria?" "My pussy has been ravaged one too many times." She says. "I had a husband once. Five kids. I eventually buried them all." She pauses, and is about to speak, but instead she begins to laugh. Then, she breaks into sobs again. "I buried them all inside my CDs." You reach over and hold her as she cries. "It's okay, Vic. It's going to be okay." "I'm sorry, Willy." "Sorry for what?" You rephrase with "Sorry for nothing! You were also the one to create them as you were the one to delete them." "Thanks, Willy." She says, then pauses. "I'm

sorry to mess up on your virtual land, Willy." "Don't worry about it. I'll just have to buy a new set." "You're a good person, Willy. You know that right? You're a good person." "Aw, I don't believe that." "You do. You believe that I'm a sexy bitch that loves you and wants to please you in every way and doesn't want for anything." "Well, you're sort of all those things, yeah." going on with "What happens if I break one of these CDs? Will you cry?" She laughs. "I won't break them, Willy." "Promise?" you say in a whiny intercept. "I promise, baby." You say "Well, they're your kids.." She smiles at you and kisses your cheek. "Thank you, Willy." "My pleasure, V." you say. "You know, baby," she says, looking at you with a mischievous grin. "We could always make more, in case anything happens to the rest of the lot. If that happens, we can also just make copies beforehand and we'll be fine." "Ah, you're a genius, Vic." She laughs. "Maybe I am." You say "Now I am putting you inside this disc." The two of you sit down right in front of the blank CD and use the computer to run a program that allows you to "download" your memories right into the hard drive of the CD and its accompanying software. You say "Bye, bye, Vic." You put in the disc, connect her on up and hit "Burn it.", then you wait for it to be done. After a few moments, it's done. You put the CD disc containing Victoria at the top of the cupboard with the other CDs. When you're finished putting everything away, you do indeed find yourself wanting to experience a brand new, sealed copy of "Victoria". You take it off the cupboard, and over to the TV and put it into your CD player. You hit "Play!" and the video starts up. On the screen, the video'd version of Victoria awaits. "Well," you think to yourself, "this is creepy. I hope she doesn't try to contact me... somehow" You hit "Play" and the video begins. "Hello, Willy." Her voice booms from the stereo. It's definitely her. "Hello, Victoria." you reply, a little creeped out. "Do you like my new look? Would you like to see more?" "Sure." "Turn on the TV. Turn on the news." You hit the remote and the TV turns on. You watch as the news anchor talks about a new disease that has hit the nation. "It causes you to behave erratically, leading to the end of the person's life." You turn to Vic. "What do you know about this disease?" "I don't know anything except what's on the news." "Turn up the volume," she says. You hit the volume button and the TV's speakers start to pick up the volume of the news anchor.

#surreal #weird #abstract #reality #existence #imagination #virtual #grimy #absurd #quizzical #other #meaning #comedic #strange #life #story #characters #happening

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criminally--reid · 4 years

Text

library lovers

I h8 the title- n e ways... here's the fix that's been promised to be posted at least twice a week for the past month 😌✋🏽also if u want untagged yk who u are smsbsj lmk,, i just thought id use the anon tag so u could see it snsbsj n e ways let's get on wiv d shit show

warnings: awkward chaotic gay, general smutty stuff y'know, mutual masturbation, i’ve never written mxm fic before so yonkers :|

word count: 2.6k

Pairing: bi!spencer x (dom-ish)male!reader

//a.n.\\ somehow the reader ends up in charge and i kinda like it tbh. i'm shit at storylines, but honestly,, highschool homophobe masturbating with spencer reid? Call that character development

`°•○●○•°`

You hadn't seen Spencer in years. Remembering the terms the two of you ended on, you weren't surprised either. All throughout highschool, you were the movie-esque tormentors of the frail, nerdy kid. The bully that wasn't actually supposed to exist. The absolute nightmare that had kids like Spencer trembling, dreading to relive the same terror another day.

Shock couldn't even begin to cover what you felt the day you watched him walk into the library you now owned. You had been working on forgetting him since graduation. Just when you thought the remnants of Spencer had dripped entirely from your memory, everything came flooding in the matter of milliseconds the moment he walked through your door. All the times you watched him eat alone, pick his things up alone after someone had thrown them out of his hands; all the times you could've stepped up and just chose not to. You promised yourself you'd be different. Now was your chance.

You subtly watch Spencer as he looks through the many isles of books. Beginning at young adult, trailing quickly to non-fiction, and eventually ending up in the classic section. He doesn't spend much time amongst the books - 5 minutes at the most since he walked in - before bringing a stack of 6 books up to the counter; you anxiously waiting to scan him in.

"Did- did you find all your books alright?" You manage to ask. Spencer merely nods his head, crossing his arms and bringing one of his hands up to his mouth, chewing on his fingernails. His brows furrow and you're worried he's about to say something.

"I'm a little surprised to see you working here actually." This throws you off. You did not plan for this- this confrontation.

"I take it you remember me?"

"I'm not really one to forget things, you know." Fair enough.

"Well, yes. I actually run the place now. My grandfather had passed it on to me."

"Oh he's…? I'm so sorry for your loss."

Spencer's look of sincerity throws you off. After all the years of you being his worst fear, he still had room in his heart to be genuinely kind towards you.

"It's fine, really. It was so long ago now. And besides- now I have this grand, ancient bookstore." You end with a chuckle and finish scanning the barcodes in each of his books.

"Thank you- uh actually, could you help me find something else?"

"Of course! What're you looking for?"

"Everyone keeps recommending me Donna Tart, where could I find some of her work?"

"Follow me," you gesture and move from behind the counter.

You walk him over to the very back of the store where all the dark academia-esq books are. While sifting through the books, he asks you a question that catches you completely off guard; his voice nothing above a whisper.

"And I take it that you don't still hate me-"

You immediately know what he's talking about. How silly of you to think the past wouldn’t be brought up.

You clear your throat before speaking up. "I- n-no of course not. I- I uh- I know this is extremely cliche, and I'm not trying to excuse away any of the horrible things I did to you but- I was hiding."

"From what?" Spencer chimes in quietly.

"I just didn't know how to feel about myself. Gay this and gay that- it was all so negative. I didn't want to be known for something that was apparently so wrong. I definitely couldn't let the football playing circle jerkers I called my friends know about how I felt towards other guys. An-and I saw how they treated people like you and I didn't want that, so I joined them."

"So you're gay?" Spencer asks, and you nod slowly. "And you and your 'circle jerking buddies' tortured me because you all thought I was gay?"

"Well- I- we uh- that's what they said. I knew it wasn't good, but I didn't do anything because of what I was. I know the word 'sorry' will never make up for anything I've ever done or said to you, but I am so so sorry, Spencer."

"You guys just knew I was gay? -Gaydar that strong, huh?" Spencer ends in a chuckle, easing up your tension, allowing you to slip out a soft laugh, too.

"Obviously, it wasn't too good. I somehow managed to skate by for four years."

"That you did." For the first time in years, when you look at Spencer, he doesn't look upset. A content, lazy smile accompanies his happy eyes as he. "Well- actually, I'm not entirely gay so I guess their gaydar needed some tweeking, hm?"

"Oh, you're-" you attempt, but get cut-off.

"Bi? Yeah. I realized I was bi when I realized I had a crush on you and your tenth grade girlfriend. What about you?"

Still skimming the pages of a Donna Tart book, never looking up from it. So nonchalant. Him being so upfront with you was honestly exciting. You never imagined that you'd be remotely friendly with Spencer Reid, let alone him revealing he had a crush on you. "Ah, about junior year, I figured out I kinda had a thing for you."

"Say, uh," Spencer started, tucking his hair behind his ear and slipping the book back onto the shelf. "I liked you; you liked me. Why don't we hang out sometime or something-"

You could tell Spencer was trying hard to mask his enthusiasm. You were too.

"Erm- yeah totally! I get off in about an hour actually; I could call you, and we could grab coffee or something."

"Sounds great," Spencer says hurriedly as he fishes around in his pocket, drawing out a small slip of paper and drawing the pen from his shirt pocket. He hands you the freshly used paper with his number inscribed on it in smudged black ink.

The next hour, excitement coursed through you. You're bustling around, fidgeting, unshelving and re-shelving books, sweeping, mopping - anything to keep your mind off of the end of your shift. The busiest yet slowest hour of your life. Your shift ends and your excitement reaches its peak. Your finger hovers over the call button at the bottom of your screen, hesitating. For a split second you get the courage to press call, but then you immediately regret it - that is until his hurried, excited voice slips through the speaker.

"Hey, y/n! It's Spencer! Uh- you know.. that.. of course. Anyways, uh there's this coffee shop about a block away from my place. I wondered if maybe you'd wanna go and have an early dinner or something."

You can't help but chuckle at his excitement; trying to calm down your own. "That sounds great, Spencer. What's the place?"

"Café Negra-"

"What?!" you cut him off "I go there all the time! How have I never seen you?"

"What? That's insane. How have we not crossed each other there?"

"No clue.. Anyways I'll meet you there- uh about 20?"

"Perfect." Spencer hangs up without any formal goodbyes, but you couldn't care less - you couldn't wait to meet him at the coffee shop.

The date - which neither of you bothered to assign that title to the event, but you both knew it was, in fact, a date - went impressively well. It's like you two had never been enemies in the first place. Those four years in high school wiped clean of any hard feelings as the two of you drank coffee way too strong for 6p.m., ate double chocolate muffins, and laughed away.

When it comes time to leave, Spencer stands up first, throwing away his cup and muffin wrapper; you follow quickly and do the same.

A mutual agreement was somehow made to take it back to Spencer's place. Maybe it was the lack of goodbyes that he seemed prone to. Whatever it was, the evening didn't feel finished.

Once inside his cozy apartment, he welcomes you to his couch before maneuvering to the tv stand, kneeling down and pulling out three movies. He gestures for you to choose one, and you choose Titanic. Not the greatest choice of the three, but you had a feeling you wouldn't be focused on the movie too much anyways.

He puts the disc into the player before joining you on the couch. About twenty minutes into the movie, he moves closer to you, resting his shoulder slowly, cautiously as if asking permission. You ease his nerves by welcoming his head on your shoulder and leaning against him in return. The next half an hour is full of stolen glances, light touches, and snuggling. All innocent until Spencer slides his hand up your thigh. You try not to mind it much. Maybe he's just absentminded in all the contact. He doesn't know what he's doing. You try to focus on the movie and not on his hand getting ever so dangerously close until you just can't anymore. Looking down at him, he's already making eye contact with you, driving you wild. Instinctually you connect your lips with his.

Spencer shuffles over and straddles your lap, never disconnecting your lips. Your hands roam around his shoulders and back before dipping underneath the hem of his shirt and pulling it off. He makes quick work of returning the favor. After a few more chaste kisses, he stands up, pulling you up with him, and pushes his pants to the floor with you following suit. Spencer places his fingers under your chin, bringing your face up to his in an attempt to place another open-mouthed kiss on your bite-swollen lips. However, you muster up a burst of courage and manage to flip the script. Placing your fingers on Spencer’s chest and holding him at arm's length, you keep eye contact while you take a seat on one end of the couch. You motion for him to take his seat at the other end.

Spencer, still unsure of the current situation, watches you move. He watches as you run your fingertips up and down your thighs. As you wet the palm of your hand with your tongue before running it up and down your shaft. Lightly tracing your fingertips over your reddened head, hissing at the contact.

“Your turn,” you say barely above a whisper.

Spencer’s eyes go wide, but he still obliges, wetting his hand and repeating your actions on himself. Hissing and cursing at the contact with his eager cock. He soon gets lost in his own world of pleasure. Moving faster and moaning barely-there profanities. Watching the show, you bring your hand back to yourself. Your eyes shut as you listen to Spencer; his pretty gasps like music to your ears.

“Y-y/n? I’m- I’m close.”

“Awh, so soon? You sure you can’t hold on for me just a little longer?”

Spencer lets out a strangled moan and forces himself to slow his pace. Watching him struggle to contain himself turns you on even more. His desperate whines and pleas for release getting you closer to the edge. “Look at me, bubbas,” you coax.

Spencer looks up at you, pushing a tuft of hair from his eyes. His other hand still desperately attached to the base of his cock, awaiting further instruction.

“Listen.. We’re gonna cum together okay?” Spencer only manages a nod in response so you continue. “I want you to move faster again; get closer. But I want you to let me know when you’re about to cum, okay?”

You’re met with a furious nod for an answer as he works at his waist, bringing himself closer to his climax; you simultaneously doing the same.

“F-fuck fuckfuckfuck! -M gonna cum. Shit! I’m cumming!” Spencer's cries of pleasure send you over the edge and you both spill over together. Your head dips back over the armrest of the couch as you try to catch your breath. You bring your head back up and look at Spencer, only to see him leaning sideways against the back of the couch, still out of breath and coates in a layer of sweat.

“Why don’t we go get cleaned up, hm?”

Spencer nods his head in agreement before getting up off the couch and leading you to the bathroom. You definitely aren’t going home tonight.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #gay #mlm #x reader #self insert fanfic #matthew gray gubler #mgg #cm #smut #fluff #spencer reid x reader #🕯anon

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hookedonapirate · 4 years

Note

hello, i love your daddy!kink verse, it's fun, but i have no idea for a prompt, i just want to read more of a kink killian,and more smut

A/N: Okay, so this isn’t exactly smut, only mentions of smut, but it is still very naughty and a little kinky. I got this idea and wanted to write it. I have plenty of other smutty prompts so stay tuned. I wrote this while I’m waiting to get back The Princess and Her Sultan from my beta readers and I wrote this quickly before work so it’s unbeta’d.

Based on this one-shot: Oh Daddy

Other Oh Daddy Prompts: 1. You’re being an awfully bad girl l 2. Daddy, can you pass the potatoes? l 3. Better than coffee l 4. Caught In a solo act l 5. Naughty School Girl

Busted

Killian hates when he’s away from his love, he really does. But if he’s maintaining an actual job, instead of making audios women get off to, then he has to. The only woman he cares about satisfying is the gorgeous blonde who’s currently in his bed naked and in a blissful, post-fuck state, probably deep asleep by now. Arousal stirs in his groin as he thinks about her. He’d left her all flushed and drenched in sweat after their early morning activities in bed. He hated leaving her, and God if he didn’t need this job he would’ve easily stayed and fucked her over and over again before holding her lovely body in his arms and snuggling her all morning.

Killian shakes his head. He needs to stop thinking about her if he’s showing at the office without a raging erection. He turns on the radio and presses play on his cd player. Miles Davis always helps him relax and stay focused. There’s something about the cool tones and complex rhythms that produce brain waves and create relief to the mind and body. Expecting the smooth sounds of jazz, the soft chimes of symbols and the expertly executed, soothing sounds of Miles’ trumpet to pour from the speakers, he’s surprised when he hears a female voice speaking instead.

It’s his Swan.

Cocking a brow, he ejects the disk, finding a blank one with Daddy scrawled over it in Emma’s handwriting, as opposed to his Miles In the Sky CD. Intrigued, he slides the disc back in. What is his little siren up to? He smirks to himself. He knows he shouldn’t be listening to it, he’s supposed to be letting his mind focus on things other than Emma and the feelings she stirs inside him.

“You’re sitting here in traffic and I know you can’t wait to come home to me,” she says in a smooth, sultry tone. “I know you’re hard as a rock just thinking about me riding you or sucking your cock.”

An unbidden groan crawls from his throat and he shifts uneasily in his seat. Her words are enough to make him harden underneath his slacks.

“Just imagine if I were there with you. Mmmm, I would love to rub your cock through your pants. Would you like that? Imagine if I were there with you, sitting in the passenger seat as I reached over to rub your cock. Mmmm, I would rub you until you were hard in my hand. I looooove when you get hard for me.”

“Fuck.” Killian curses under his breath. She’d made him a naughty audio, the little minx. He should turn it off; he’s on his way to work and he’s driving. As much as he wants to, he can’t fantasize about her while he’s out in public. He palms his growing erection, trying to relieve some of the tension he feels as he keeps his eyes on the road. It’d be so easy though to just undo his pants and grab his cock. He’s not wearing anything underneath, which would make it even easier. Emma loves when he goes commando; it turns her on. She loves to pounce on him as soon as he walks through the door and she loves undoing his pants to find his cock unrestrained underneath. She loves being able to slide her hand down his pants and jerk him off with nothing getting in her way.

“I’m tracing the head of your cock, squeezing it, pushing down harder on the length as it gets bigger.” She sighs, “You feel so good, baby. I need more of you. I want to feel your hard dick in my hand. I want to stroke you. I fumble to open your pants, but it’s difficult while I’m sitting here in the passenger seat, while we’re surrounded by traffic attempting to look as though nothing’s happening. You give me that cheeky grin of yours and help me by undoing your belt.”

Screw it.

He groans and reaches for his belt to unbuckle it, anticipation coiled in his belly, his heart racing. He’s never done this before. He’s never jerked off while he’s driving. He has a hard time unbuttoning his pants while he’s trying to drive with the other hand. Which is funny because he can unlatch Emma’s bra with only one hand in one swift motion; he’s done it several times before with his eyes closed. He’s, however, having a difficult time driving and unbuttoning his pants while he’s sporting a raging erection and hearing Emma’s seductive, raspy voice in his ear giving him instructions.

He finally pops open the button and unzips his pants, but not without jerking on the wheel with his other hand, and the car swerves a bit before he straightens out the tires. He holds the steering wheel with both hands, taking a long breath. He doesn’t need to die from trying to jerk off in the car.

The sound of a siren makes his eyes snap to the rearview mirror and to Killian’s horror, he sees a cop car behind him with flashing lights trying to pull him over.

Killian cusses under his breath and quickly pulls over to the shoulder. He shuts off the engine and pops open his glove compartment to find the appropriate documents. But he still has a problem. A very big and extremely hard problem. He’s still unbearably hard in his pants. He frantically searches through his glove compartment for his Miles Davis CD. He needs to refocus his mind so he can soften again, but it’s too late. The police officer is already tapping on his window.

Fuck.

Killian turns his head as he rolls the window down. As if things couldn’t possibly get worse, the police officer who is pulling him over is Emma’s father!

Fuck fuck fuck!

Killian takes a deep, trembling breath and offers a small smile as he hands David his identification, insurance and registration, hoping he doesn’t notice the bulge in Killian’s pants.

“Hi, Killian,” he says, scanning the documents. “Wanna tell me why I pulled you over?”

Killian shrugs. “Not sure, officer.”

“I pulled you over because your vehicle jerked over into the other lane, so I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Aye, I’m fine,” Killian says casually. “I took my eyes off the road for a second because I was looking for my Miles Davis CD.” Good excuse.

David’s eyes light up and Killian sighs in relief. “You’re a jazz fan, too?”

Killian nods. “Aye. I never drive anywhere without my Miles Davis CD.”

“Ah yes, he’s the best damn trumpet player who ever lived.”

Killian’s nerves dwindle a bit as they have a pleasant discussion about their favorite musicians and songs and he feels comfortable knowing David won’t write him up a ticket.

“I’ll let you off with a warning, but next time make sure you find your CD before you’re on the road, okay? If I have to deliver my daughter bad news and tell Emma her boyfriend got into an auto accident because he was distracted I’ll shoot you, even after you’re already dead, understand?”

Killian nods, but he doesn’t like the way David said distracted. Does David know he jerked the car because he was trying to jerk off? “I’ll be more careful, I promise.”

David pats him on the shoulder and hands Killian his documents. “Good. Have a nice day at work.”

“Thanks, Mr. Nolan.”

“Please, call me David.”

“Will do… David,” he says with a small smile.

“Oh, and Killian?”

“Yes, Mr. Nol-I mean David?”

Emma’s father leans in and speaks in almost a whisper, “Zip up your pants. I don’t want to have to arrest you for being indecent in public and have to explain that to my daughter, mm-kay?”

Killian’s eyeballs almost pop out of their sockets as he looks down at himself and realizes his pants are still unzipped and he’s not wearing any underwear.

Bloody fucking hell.

Thankfully, David leaves immediately and drives away as Killian frantically zips up his pants and buttons up before he slumps into his car seat.

Well, that’s one way to lose an erection.

Killian roars up the engine and the cd automatically continues to play.

“Oh, Daddy… stroking your long hard dick is making me so wet. I wish I could slide down on your dick right now and ride you until you cum inside my pussy.”

Fuck.

Just like that, Killian’s hard again. Just like that’s he’s taking his cock out of his pants and stroking himself while he listening to his girlfriend talk dirty to him. He’s never jerked off in his car before. He’s also never spurted white, sticky cum all over his good work pants and had to go back home to change. Perhaps this was Emma’s plan all along. Killian smirks to himself as he thinks of ways to get her back for this.

#cs ff #captain swan #oh daddy prompts #anonymous

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s1cparvism4gna · 4 years

Text

I Like You A Lot

WARNINGS: violence and cursing

Pairings: Chloe Frazer x Nadine Ross x OC

Tags: @desertvvitch , @courtenbae

Chapter 10

Sunny’s POV

“We are….right about here. I can mark it up as we go along.” Chloe said, pointing to the bottom of the wrinkled map in her hands. I stood up in the 4x4 to look at the view. Clearly in the distance, there was a tall mossy tower. Vines beginning to climb its base as fog circled around the tippy top of it.

“That tower looks like it’s smack dab in the middle of everything.”

“Mm. Probably could get a good lay of the land from there.” Nadine added, knowing exactly where I was going with it. After a bit of conversation on the way over, the three of us managed to find a way to gel. Like an oiled machine. Barely working but it got shit done.

“Right then. So we have a plan. Get to the tower. Nadine, you keep an eye out for Asav. Not that I’m too worried about him.” Chloe shrugged, starting up the car.

“You should be. We won’t have the advantage of surprise again. I don’t think he was expecting much from you… Either of you really.” Nadine said, looking off somewhere. Chloe dramatically stopped the car.

“I’m sorry- did you just give us a compliment?” She smirked, looking back at me. I smiled small.

“Sounded like she did…” I tilted my head, matching eyes with her in the side view mirror and she shook her head with a light scoff.

“His guys are idiots but Asav…. look, we just need to stay the hell away from him.” She warned us. The way she spoke about him seemed to shake her a bit. I wondered what he did that got her so spooked. Chloe continued to drive like a maniac through the half dried up vallies. Much like Nathan did, she took the opportunity to drive over every rock and slope she could find. Every drop gave me a heart attack, every slip back worried the hell out of me. And yet… I felt totally safe with her driving the car. I could take a nap in this little bumpy ride and wake up unworried. Wouldn’t recommend it though… In a strange sort of comfort, I leaned my head back and looked at the clear skies and the ruins as we drove beneath the sculpted bridges and such.

“I never understood the appeal of people like Asav…” Chloe said randomly, filling the silence once again.

“It’s simple. He finds men who are weak and offers them power.” Nadine answered simply. “Gives them purpose.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me.” I commented and Chloe agreed. Then I figured maybe I’d start talking. I was going to be stuck with these two for a while. Might as well… “How’d you get caught up with this guy anyways, Nadine?”

“‘Purpose?’” Chloe mocked and I chuckled, hitting her shoulder playfully. Nadine grimaced and flared her nostrils.

“Rather not go into it.” She simply stated.

“He certainly seemed to have a thing for you.” Chloe teased. I raised my brows and moved to the middle of the backseat.

“Hwat?!” I exclaimed.

“Don’t remind me. Proved useful at the time but…. ja.” She brushed over the subject very quickly.

“And again I say- HWAT?!” I blinked at her, seeing her in a different light. Through everything, I somehow had forgotten that she was a woman above all things.

“Uh...do tell!!!” Chloe prodded in excitement. Finally, a conversation worth having.

“Rather not.” Nadine said, shutting it down quickly.

“Over drinks?” Chloe was adamant on getting her fill of gossip for the day but Nadine wasn’t having it.

“Not enough alcohol in the world.”

“Damn… and you talked about my taste in men….” I chuckled, leaning back in my seat as we drove along a shallow ravine.

“Well I don’t go sleeping around with two bit thieves.” Nadine commented.

“No. You just go sleepin’ around with spoiled emo rich kids and psycho warlords.” I fired back rather quickly. I smirked.

“Alright, you two. Enough.” Chloe giggled, changing the subject. She nudged Nadine in her side. “So you’re the military expert. What’s his strategy here?”

“He’s spread out his men. Hoping to stop us in our tracks. Rookie move on his part. Not what I would do…” she said.

“And what would you do, Nadine?” I asked. I somewhat cared but I also didn’t. Warming up to her was a challenge when she could be so snippy.

“Besides lose the beard?” She began. I chuckled. ‘Is that a sense of humor?’ I thought with a small smile as she spoke. “I’d hang back. Let you do all the heavy lifting then swoop in the grab the tusk once you’ve done all the hard work.” It was brutal but efficient.

“Jesus, Ross…” I crinkled my brows as I looked at her and she just shrugged.

“You asked.” She mumbled.

We continued to drive about. Slowly but surely I was beginning to get annoyed with Chloe’s driving. She kept running under waterfalls, thinking it was funny. It was cute the first time. But after the third and fourth time, I was just cold and wet. We dried off some as we waited for Chloe to climb and examine the tower. As it turned out, there were symbols inside pointing us in the direction of each temple ruin. And with that, we started off for the first one. We drove up some cliffs to the top of a waterfall and suddenly slowed down. There was a big truck parked in front of one of the ruins.

“Asav’s men?” I asked.

“Ja.” Nadine whispered.

“Let’s get going then, ladies.” Chloe said, parking the 4x4 behind the truck and grabbing her gun as she hopped out of the car. I checked the clips in my guns to make sure I was good and followed suit.

We climbed the platform to be met with a structure that looked like the remnants of a temple. Carved into the stone was the shape of a trident, a motif carved into the very top of the ruin that was quite similar to Chloe’s disc. “Ganesh. Remover of Obstacles….” I heard Nadine mumble as I tightened the strap on my gun over my shoulder.

“Where’d you learn that?” I asked stupidly.

“Picked up a book. Same as you…” I heard her voice trail off as if she were distracted. When I looked up, she was staring at Chloe as she let her dark tresses down from her ponytail to wring out her hair. She blinked a moment and then looked away, flustered as she threw her hair back up into a new ponytail and began marking her map. I smirked. She was totally into her. It was clear as day. Poor Nadine thought no one noticed but I did. Compared to her two psycho exes, Chloe was a huge step up. Wasn’t exactly sure if I approved yet though.

“Alright, you lot. Let’s go.” Chloe ordered and we followed her into the temple.

Asav’s men were pacing at their posts all over the place. I had to give it to this guy. He suckered a lot of sorry saps to their deaths for this job. Poor bastards would never know what hit them. “Is the gate secured?!” I heard a man yell as the three of us crouched low in a patch of grass then taking cover behind a fallen pillar.

“Not yet! Waiting on Cobra B!” Another answered.

“Oi! Let’s keep this quiet, ja?” Nadine whispered to us. “Spurrs, have you still got that silencer?” She asked me. I rolled my eyes and groaned. I wanted to blow things up, make some noise. But Nadine, on the other hand, wanted to do everything quickly and quietly.

“Yeah I still got it on me…” I replied sadly.

“Good. So would you mind…?” She nodded towards one of the men pacing atop a singular platform with a machine gun resting on his shoulder lazily. I clicked off the safety and huffed.

“I got it.” I mumbled. Chloe just chuckled and rubbed my back.

“There’ll be plenty of time for more fun, later, Sunny.” She told me. I gave her a small smile before running the same plan as before. I ran through first, thinned out the group at the higher points. Then Chloe and Nadine would take out the others on the ground. We got away with it again but something was telling me that was the last time we’d be able to pull this off. The group was cleared as we watched Chloe deliver a final blow to a man’s jaw and she shook her hand to relieve the pain.

“Woo! You alright?” I heard her ask Nadine.

“Besides working for a reckless treasure hunter… ja. I’m good.” She responded. Chloe blew her bangs from her face and rolled her eyes. I joined the two at the end of the field and took a look at my surroundings.

“What is this place? Or what was it rather…” I asked Chloe.

“Honestly… hard to say. A fortress maybe? It’s not the right layout for a temple.” She told us, walking towards a ruin that housed an odd looking circular mechanism on the gate. Guess I was wrong about the place. We began pulling and pressing on the spokes of the wheel but it wouldn’t budge. “Hmm… how the hell—” Suddenly, I ran my hand over the middle. If there was something I learned from Nathan, it was to press everything. As I pressed it quickly, each spoke flipped revealing a carved golden side. “How’d you do that?”

“Natey presses things all the time. Looked like a button so I gave it a shot.”

“Huh…” She hummed curiously as we heard multiple clicks beneath us and in the distance. She looked behind her and a mechanism that looked similar to the wheel appeared on the ground. “What do you do….” She crouched low and placed a hand on the handle, turning it and pressing it into the ground. There was a low creak and a spoke on the wheel behind Nadine and I made a sound. A lock retracted when she did whatever she did. Chloe mumbled something inaudible to herself as Nadine called for her attention.

“One of the spokes just turned around.” She told her. Chloe chewed on her lip as we approached her.

“I saw a couple thingies like this one around the ruins on the way over.” I told her.

“Right. So let’s turn the others.” She said, stretching her arms. The three of us split up and turned the other nodules. It didn’t take very long for us to find them.

“Now back to the big wheel thing…” I said to myself after we made sure we got them all.

When we got back to the gate, Chloe took a spin of the wheel and the stone gate began to lift. “Teamwork makes the dream work, eh?” I smiled as it slowly rose. Suddenly, the door had gotten stuck about a foot and a half from the ground.

“Oh you’re kidding me…” Nadine groaned as we looked beneath it.

“Guess we’re going under…” Chloe commented as she crawled beneath it. Not wanting it to fall on me before we could get through, I crawled in right behind her without a second thought. Nadine followed behind me and just as her foot passed the threshold, the gate dropped closed behind her. It didn’t seem to freak her out at all though. I shook the nerves off and followed Chloe around a wall where we were met with a set of steps that led to what looked like a little stone gazebo and a mechanism in the middle of it. There was a gorgeous view of waterfalls and mountains from here. It was breathtaking really. Much like I tended to do (because I just love psyching myself out), I walked to the edge and looked down at how high up we were. ‘Fuck…’ I thought as I pulled away to bring my attention to the mechanism. There was a puzzle all jumbled up and right beneath it was a circular slot. I ran my fingers over it ready to solve whatever it was but there was nothing to move it with. Chloe suddenly hummed and pulled her disc from earlier out.

“What are you willing to bet…” she said, pressing the disc into the slot. Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle lifted from their locked positions. A smirk formed on her lips as she gestured to me. “All you.” She said, leaving me to quickly solve the ancient Hoysala jigsaw puzzle. I turned the pieces all together so that they’d fit and formed the image of a trident before locking together and back down into its base. Just as it clicked, the entire puzzle panel flipped revealing a beautifully carved image of elephant diety. I jumped back a bit as two poles then sprung out from the sides suddenly. “Well hello, sir!” Chloe commented respectfully, looking over my shoulder.

“Now what?” Nadine asked.

“I guess we turn the crank? See what happens next...” I guessed, putting my hands on one of the poles, ready to push. Chloe got on the other side to do the same but Nadine but a hand on her arm to stop her a second.

“Is it safe?” She asked in a rather sheepish tone; one very out of character for Nadine Ross. Chloe just chuckled.

“Y’know, treasure hunting isn’t a good gig for the risk-averse, right?” She joked.

“Neither is being a mercenary. Difference is- when I pull a pin on a grenade, I know what's going to happen next.” Nadine took a few steps back to let us do our thing. Chloe shrugged.

“My ways much more fun.” She said, winking at me.

I smiled and the two of us began to turn the crank. After a few seconds, we could hear a low rumble and it began to feed out into the floor below us. “You hear that?”

“You feel that?” Nadine asked, looking at her feet.

“What the hell…” I mumbled, looking around. Suddenly, behind us, we could hear the splashes of running water. “Yo….” I whispered in awe as we all looked over the edge. Nadine stood to look out at the view and tapped Chloe on the shoulder.

“Guys, look…” she said pointing to a mountain out before us. Chloe pulled out her binoculars and peered at it curiously. A bright smile pulled on her lips.

“There is a massive relief carved into the side of that mountain.” she said, handing me the binoculars to look for myself. In full view, there was a gorgeous elaborate carving with a bit of water streaming down the front of it. I chuckled and handed them to Nadine so she could see it as well. “And you were worried that we were going to turn that crank and die…” She seemed rather amused by her paranoia. Nadine just smiled nervously and looked into the binoculars. I looked at the pair of them together. It was still odd but maybe…

“Guess it’s good we’ve got an archaeologist’s daughter with us.” She commented. Nadine missed it but Chloe’s smile suddenly fell as she went into thought. “That must’ve been fun growing up, eh?”

“It had its moments… and I learned a lot… Hoysala Empire was kinda his thing.” she said, seeming as if she were trying to talk herself into believing something was better than it was. Trying to find the bright side in it as she’d done with everything in life. She leaned against a pillar and looked at her swollen knuckles, picking the dirt from beneath her bloodied nails. Then she gave a big sigh. “Took up a lot of his time though...” She said. Nadine and I looked at her as she chewed on her lip, looking out at the view pensively. I was beginning to understand. He wasn’t around a lot because of it. She just wanted to be with her father and he was probably too busy to see that. I knew that feeling all too well myself. I leaned on the bar of the crank as she continued. “Me, if I go digging for treasure, I’d better make a buck or two…”

“Sure. I don’t take risks without a good payday.” Nadine looked back at her with a gentle smile. My eyes widened a little. I’d never seen her look so innocent before. It was almost cute. I stayed quiet like a little fangirl to watch their interactions.

“Much like running an army, huh? That’s a big responsibility.” Chloe commented, gearing the conversation back towards her. Nadine always seemed uncomfortable talking about her life. Much like Chloe did. She winced as she turned back to the view, staring at the flock of birds that flew by.

“Second nature. It was my father’s business. He retired, I took over.” She said simply and militantly. When she did talk about herself, it was interesting to hear. It was like she was a human being or something and not a raging bitch for once.

“Family business… Made a real mess of it.” Chloe said rather insensitively. I raised a brow at her and chuckled at her.

“Well you should know. Like Spurrs, here, I heard you and those Drake brothers are close.” She retorted, throwing me into the mix as she handed back her binoculars. And just like that, we were back to square one. I scoffed at the nerve she had to bring them up like that. I stood up and started down the stairs. Chloe looked between the two of us awkwardly as she looked into her binoculars again.

“Yeah well, that’s a conversation for another time…” she said brushing the subject but Nadine wouldn’t let it go.

“If they didn’t tell you, I’m sure Sunny did.” She said. I made a face and turned my head to look at her.

“Why are you pokin’ the bear for? It’s done. Libertalia is done. It’s over. No reason to dwell on it.” I said as calmly as possible, sitting at the foot of the steps and lighting myself a cigarette. Nadine grunted as she turned back to face the mountains.

“So where to now?” She asked Chloe.

“Well there’s another fort embedded in the mountains that way. I’d say that’s a start. And definitely that fort in the lakebed.” Chloe answered, tucking her binoculars away and pulling out her map.

“Let’s get going then.” Nadine sighed. Yet and still, she just couldn’t drop the subject. “I suppose I should’ve asked about the Drakes before I took this job.” She said. I took a big drag and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke as I shook my head, chuckling in annoyance.

“Not much to tell.” Chloe said as she began to mark down the forts on her map. “I know Nate pretty well. Sam less so. He just seemed to fall right into my lap.” I chuckled at the irony.

“I’m sure he did…” I commented sourly. Chloe, thinking I was being funny, giggled mischievously. I shook my head as Nadine looked between the two of us.

“What- you slept with him, too?” She asked her in disgust, putting two and two together. My heart skipped. ‘Shit…’ I thought, tossing my cigarette over the edge in frustration. I began bouncing my knee anxiously, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed. Chloe peeked up from her map, narrowing her eyes at her.

“What do you mean ‘too’?” She asked. I groaned.

“You and Spurrs, I mean. Hell, he’s practically her boyfriend-” Nadine elaborated.

“He’s not my boyfriend-” I snapped.

“Ja. Like I believe that. I do have eyes, Sunny.” She laughed briefly. I turned to look at the pair and Chloe was looking at me in surprise. “I saw the way he looked at you. How he protected you from Rafe in Libertalia every chance he got. It was obvious you two were together. And if either of you thought you were hiding it, you were doing a piss poor job of it.”

“Sam’s your boyfriend?!” Chloe asked as her face seemed to pale.

“He is not my boyfriend!!!” I exclaimed, covering my face in frustration.

“Isn’t he though?” Nadine fired back. I was having a flashback from my conversation with Sully when he said something similar. I had nothing else to say. So I opted to stay quiet.

“Sunflower…” I heard Chloe mumble softly.

“Have you finished markin’ up that map? If so, we should go. I wanna stay ahead of this Asav guy. Never met him and I don’t really plan to.” I said abruptly, standing to leave down the stairs and around the wall. My heart was pounding. I was nervous, I was embarrassed, I was angry. There were so many things to feel in that moment and it took everything in me to hold back a couple years. I sniffled and took a few deep breaths to center myself again. The girls followed behind me and Chloe couldn’t seem to stop looking at me. She didn’t know the full story but she knew something was wrong. She looked as though she’d done something stupid and didn’t know how to apologize for it. But in truth, she had nothing to apologize for. She didn’t do anything wrong. When I really thought about it, I wasn’t even mad at her. It was Sam and how he practically lied to me again. ‘Must come with the Drake territory… all that damn lyin’...’ I thought as Nadine approached me. She looked rather guilty but it was too late for that.

“Spurrs, I-”

“Just don’t. Help me lift this.” I said, dismissing whatever it was she had to say. She just nodded and bent her knees to help me lift the excessively heavy gate.

“You’ve got it?” She asked me and I nodded.

“Chloe, go!” I grunted, struggling to hold the stone gate up as she crawled under. Then she held it up from the other side. “Go.” I told Nadine, then she crawled under and held it up as well. I crawled through last and they dropped the heavy door as soon as I was out from under it. Without speaking to either of them, I started across the fort for the 4x4.

Just as I was walking by a ruin, I’d gotten a glimpse of a man in a generic camouflage uniform coming our way. My eyes widened and I turned on my heel very quickly, dipping around the corner to take cover. Chloe and Nadine stopped in their tracks as they watched me press my back against the stoney platform and I mouthed for them to back off; waving at them as they silently got the hint and took cover themselves. I could see their heads peeping at me from behind their corners. I rolled my eyes when suddenly the man walked right by me. He didn’t even notice my presence against the wall; his tunnel vision was clearly geared towards the gate we’d just left from. I did a quick once over of the weapons on his person and my eyes lit up at the sight of the massive knife tucked in its holster. With quick reflex and an excited smirk, I adjusted the gun in my hand to bust the heavy hilt upside the back of his head. Grunting briefly, he passed out and fell back into my arms. I laid him in the shallow water gently so as to not make more noise and patted him down for everything he had. Including that beautiful knife. The girls appeared from their corners, weapons drawn and anxious expressions on their faces. They carefully stalked over to me, bending to meet my level.

“Reinforcements are on their way. They must’ve seen the car.” I told them as I stole this man’s M39. I held it up and checked it’s clip that happened to be damn near full. “If we split up-”

“No! We don’t split up. That’s a sure fire way to get us all killed.” Nadine whisper-fussed at me, her eyes darting between me and the direction the man had just come from.

“Nadine, we don’t have a choice!” I snapped in a hushed tone when suddenly the man’s communication device began to produce a bit of static. This guy’s comrade started asking questions.

“Sadik! Do you see those mongrels?” We heard his voice say. Chloe made a face as we stared at the device.

“Rude.” She commented. Neither of us knew what to do.

“Well shit, do we answer it?” I asked Nadine.

“Why are you asking me?”

“You’re the grown up here.” I told her.

“You’re not twelve, Sunny!” She snapped as the static began to come through again.

“Sadik! Brother? Are you there?!” The man’s voice said again. I was getting worried. He obviously knew something wasn’t right and was surely sending more boots our way. I looked up at Chloe as she chewed on her lip.

“Fuck it.” She eventually said, turning down the volume of his device and pulling her own gun off of her shoulder. “No guts, no glory, right?” I could feel that familiar surge of adrenaline pumping and I knew that I was finally going to get the fight I’d been waiting for.

It seemed to be every woman for themselves for the immediate second. Chloe and Nadine peeled off in different directions and I climbed the ruin in front of me, hiding behind the corner of a pillar. I peeked from behind to scope out just how many there were out there. And it was a nice little amount, too. I took a deep breath and watched as they began to split up. I aimed my pistol at a few men, shooting a few down one by one as the strategy seemed to be. When enough were down, I suddenly noticed Chloe recklessly jumping from the top of a ruin, striking a man across his jaw and bringing him down. She began to fire her guns almost immediately. Nadine had begun throwing her signature kicks, conserving her ammunition by using hand to hand combat instead of using her weapon. Gunfire began to ring out as I tucked my pistol away and began to use the stolen machine gun. I jumped from my spot and began powering through, my muscles resisting against the power of the gun as men dropped like flies. Unfortunately, the fight didn’t last as long as I had hoped. It was underwhelming compared to what Nadine brought to us in Libertalia. If anything, I had to give that to her. I groaned as I watched Chloe knock out the last man and started for the car. I could feel a set of eyes on the back of my neck as I walked away. But considering my options as to who’s eyes, I could’ve cared less. Just as I was about to climb the wall that led us back to the 4x4, I felt a gentle hand on my back. I was turned to be met with Nadine. She seemed a bit awkward. She was the type that wasn’t used to apologizing and I could tell that. But lord did she try…

“You handled yourself well back there. Both of you really... all things considered…” she said looking at the ground and picking at her cuticles. Chloe gave an airy laugh and placed her hands on her hips.

“All things considered? That’s high praise coming from you.” She said. I was still fuming from her little stunt earlier. Although I had mentally accepted her apology thirty minutes ago, I still felt indifferent. Staring at her, the stone like expression on my face never changed.

“I don’t want your praise.” I said simply before climbing the wall. Reluctantly, I bent down to reach out and help her up. She looked at me in confusion and I just waved my hand in her face. “If you don’t take it, I’m gonna leave you. And I have no problem doin’ that right now.” I told her sternly. Nadine pursed her lips and took my hand as I assisted her up. Then we helped Chloe.

When we got in the car, we sat in silence for a moment, just catching our breaths. I leaned my head in my hand against the car door as I looked out along the scenery. I should’ve been enjoying myself but there I was, just bitter. It was a sticky situation. And the more I thought about what happened, the more upset I became with Sam. All I could really think to ask was “why”. I rubbed an itch away from my nose and blinked away the stinging sensation in my eyes that began to come about. Once again, Chloe broke the silence. She turned to Nadine and looked her dead in her eyes. The younger yet more mature woman looked like a deer in headlights for the moment as she explored Chloe’s grey eyes.

“Just so you know… Nathan Drake is no longer in the picture. So you have absolutely nothing to worry about…” I heard her say. I forced out a laugh at the irony. ‘Can’t tell her about Sam though, can you, Frazer?’ I thought, biting the knuckle of my finger. Then she suddenly turned to me. “Sunny—”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s done. He’s a single man. He can do what he wants. I haven’t seen him in months anyway…” I told her a half truth… or a skewered one rather. Chloe just nodded and turned around in her seat.

“Guess we’ll start for the mountain side then. Since it’s closer…”

“Ja. That’d be best…” Nadine mumbled. Chloe looked at me from the rear view mirror with raised brows.

“Sunny, love? You still on board?” She asked me. In all actuality, I couldn’t really afford to go home. So I sighed and nodded.

“Yeah.” I answered, defeatedly. And with that, we started down the shallow rapids and onto the next fortress.

Read more on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26555698/chapters/64735600

#poc #poc oc #uncharted headcanon #ao3 author #nadine ross #chloe frazer #chlodine #uncharted lost legacy #uncharted oc #uncharted imagine #sam drake x oc #Sam drake #Samuel drake #Asav #uncharted 4 #sam drake headcanons #sam drake fanfiction #chlodine headcanons

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cali-holland · 5 years

Text

The Emmett to My Elle Woods- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Prompt: As your best friend, Tom loves you unconditionally and, when another relationship of yours ends, he decides to finally tell you how he feels.

Word Count: 1300

Based On: She Will be Loved by Maroon 5 and loosely based on the film Legally Blonde

Masterlist Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

You sighed as another picture frame broke, crashing against your wood floors. It always ended up like this; it was nothing new. You were the kind of girl who was always in a relationship, and you feared the time between relationships. That in between time was when your worst insecurities of being alone forever, living an okay yet unsatisfying life.

This time was upon you now. Your most recent boyfriend had just broken up with you. It had only been four short months and you were familiar to the heart wrenching feeling of a break up, but it still hurt to hear his words: “it’s just not working out” and “I’ve met someone else”.

He was gone from your apartment, and you had broken the picture frame purposefully, furious at his sudden change. Just yesterday, everything seemed so ideal and perfect between you two. You were sweeping up your own mess as your phone rang.

“What’s up?” You answered, knowing it was your best friend calling.

“You down for a movie night?” Tom’s voice came through the phone.

“You’re back in town already?” You smiled, thinking of finally being able to see him again in person.

“I landed this morning. What do you say, you choose the movie and I bring the snacks? My place?” He asked.

“Yeah, sounds good. I’ll be over in a bit.”

“Okay sweet. See you soon.” He ended the phone call and your brain started to think of which movie you’d most like to watch right now. Your mind comes to the classic break up movies like Eat Pray Love and La La Land. You focused once more on finishing up cleaning the break up mess itself, letting your thoughts of a movie night drift away for the time being.

~~~

“Legally Blonde?” Tom questions as he looks at your choice. He stares at the preppy pink Reese Witherspoon on the cover and raises his eyebrows.

“You said I could pick.” You smiled, eating some of the snacks he supplied.

“I thought you’d pick a better movie, not just a random chick flick movie.”

“It’s not random. It’s an empowering movie.” You replied.

“I guess.” He said, popping it into the dvd player and then sitting beside you on the sofa. Tom looks over at you following the scene in which Elle gets dumped by Warner and lets out a small sigh. “He broke up with you, didn’t he?”

“How could you tell?” You asked, trying not to sound too hurt by his spot on accusation.

“Well, for starters, you’d never be free on a Friday night with him. And you also wouldn’t be eating all of my food, watching a break up movie, if you were okay.”

“You know me too well.” You let out a small laugh, thinking back to a few months ago when this same moment played out after Tom found out about the last break up with your previous boyfriend.

“I don’t feel like this movie is one that you should be watching in this state.”

“You’ve never even seen it- how would you know?”

“Because she’s trying to win her ex back.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not Elle Woods then because I surely won’t be getting into law school.”

“What’d he say?” Tom asked after a short pause.

“That he found another girl and things between us aren’t the same anymore.” You explained. Tom rolled his eyes and pulled you into a hug. You melted in his arms, despite the awkward angle from you both sitting on a couch.

“I’m sorry. You really have the worst taste.” He teased.

“I can’t help it. Class A douchebags are my type, I guess.” You replied jokingly.

“Come on, let’s do something else.” He said, standing up.

“But my movie-”

“It’ll wait.” Tom grabbed your hand, pulling you up. He grabbed a blanket and you followed him outside. You watched as he quietly unfolded the blanket and laid it down on the grass. He laid down on top of it and you followed in suit.

“This was your spontaneous, grand plan? Star gazing?” You asked, looking up at the sky full of stars.

“We’re waiting for a shooting star.” He stated, “But yes, I find it calming to look up at the stars.” You let out a laugh and shifted closer to your best friend.

“Thank you for doing this.” You smiled, “You really know how to make me feel better.”

“Anything for you, Y/N.” Tom answered.

A few minutes passed in a calm silence between the two of you. Then, for only a quick instant, there was a shooting star flying across the sky. You gasped, eye lighting up when you recognized it.

“Make a wish.” Tom said, closing his eyes. You closed your eyes and thought, “I wish for everything to turn out okay.”

“What’d you wish for?” He asked as he turned to you.

“I can’t tell you that or it won’t come true.” You replied.

“I don’t think it works like that.” He laughed. He went to speak more, but your phone began to ring. Looking down at it, your ex was calling. “What does he want?”

“Probably to get back together. I bet that girl wasn’t interested, or didn’t exist.” You said. You went to answer, but Tom hit the decline button before you could. “What did you do that for?”

“Y/N, he broke up with you just a few hours ago. You can’t just let him come back.” Tom spoke. You sat up, looking at him in disbelief.

“He was still my boyfriend and I love him.”

“But you shouldn’t. He doesn’t treat you right; you should be with someone who makes you feel beautiful.” He sat up as well, trying to level the conversation.

“I have to go. Thanks for tonight I guess.” You stood up, starting to walk off.

“Y/N, wait.” He called after you. You stopped and turned back for a moment. “You know my door’s always open for you.” You nodded and continued on your way to your car.

Tom let out a sigh and went back inside his place. He found that the movie had kept running and was now to the point in which Elle rejects Warner after the trial. He turned off the movie and removed the disc. With the pink case in hand, he got into his car and drove to your place. Upon seeing your car was gone, he didn’t bother to stop. He kept driving until he reached your favorite place. He saw from afar that you were sitting in your car, staring at the pond’s fountain in front of you. He parked beside you and got out of his car. He made his way into your car’s passenger seat.

“James Blunt?” He asked quietly as You’re Beautiful played through the speakers.

“What are you doing here?” You replied, wiping away the tears from your face.

“You left this.” Tom placed the dvd case on your center console. “I thought I better return it.”

“Thank you.” You said softly.

“So Elle ends up with the junior partner guy I assume?”

“Emmett.” You nodded, “Yeah, she becomes best friends with Warner’s ex-fiancee, who leaves Warner as well.”

“Sounds like it all worked out for Elle.”

“If only it actually worked out like that.”

“It could.” Tom said, not letting his eyes leave you. “Maybe your ex is Warner. You just need to find your Emmett.”

“I think I already have.” Your voice was quiet as you spoke.

“Why are you stuck on Warner then?”

“Because I’m scared of what will happen if Emmett doesn’t like me back.”

“I feel like Emmett likes you back.” Tom smiled softly. You leaned in and kissed Tom. Pulling back you smiled as well.

“It seems like that was overdue.” You joked.

“Long overdue.” He replied, leaning in to kiss you again.

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #spiderman #peter parker #marvel #MCU

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trndsttr0961 · 5 years

Text

Rogue - Chapter Three

“Where did Captain America learn how to steal a car?” I asked Cap, finally breaking the silence.

“Nazi Germany.” Cap answered. “And we’re borrowing, take your feet off the dash.”

A smug look on my face, I took my feet off, reveling in getting under Cap’s skin.

There was yet again an awkward silence between the three of us as we continued driving.

“Alright I have a question for you Steve,” Natasha asked leaning forward. “Have you kissed anyone since 1945? I mean, you looked pretty uncomfortable when O’ and I kissed.” She smirked.

“Yeah, you should’ve seen his face, he looked like a fuckin’ tomato.” I said, a laugh in my voice.

“Shut it Romanov. I’ll have you know that it’s a little difficult to find someone with shared life experience when you’re 95 years old. Also watch your damn mouth, St- I mean Rogue.” He scolded.

“Well that’s alright. Just make something up.” I shrugged, glancing towards Cap.

“What, like you?” Cap looked pointedly at me, as if he’d won our battle of wits.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged once again. “The truth is a matter of circumstance. It’s not all things to all people, all the time.” I tell him. Getting a wistful look in my eyes, I stare out of the window and mutter under my breath.

“And neither am I.”

“That’s a tough way to live.” Cap says, feeling sympathetic for someone so young to live such a way.

“It’s a good way not to die though.” I fire directly back at him.

It’s silent for a moment, and the only noise is the steady hum of the engine and the cars passing by.

“You know it’s kind of hard to trust someone, when you don’t know who that someone is.” He tells me softly.

Looking straight into his eyes, I can’t help but agree with him.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “Who do you want me to be?” I ask him.

He pauses for a moment, thinking. “How about a friend.”

I laugh and look away. “Well there’s a chance you might be in the wrong business, Rogers.” I say, not looking at him.

He just gives me a knowing look, and continues driving. But now I have a strange feeling in my heart. For the first time in years, I have a friend. For as long as I can remember, I never had any trustworthy friends besides Nat, all of them were friendly to me because of my name. Because of who my father was.

It’s silent for a few minutes and nobody utters a word. Not even Nat whose been silent for a while now.

“Well look at that, we’re there.” Nat states pointing straight ahead at a wire fence surrounded by a field of tall grass. I spoke thought too soon, I guess.

Steve stops the car and we all climb out. I pull out the flash drive and take a look at the tracing program I was running.

“Nat’s right. The file came from these coordinates.” I state, walking towards the fence.

“So did I.” a soft voice comes from behind me. I whip around and see Steve staring at the building behind the fence with a nostalgic look on his face.

We walked for a bit before Nat broke the silence.

“Steve, is this where you were trained?” She asked him, tentatively. Which was rare for the spy.

He gave a stiff nod as we continued on our trek through the base.

“Change much?” I asked him, holding up the flash drive and trying to pinpoint the exact origin point of the file.

“A little.” He says, staring into space, seeming to get lost in his memories.

I hand the flash drive to Natasha and walk back over to him, looking at the field of grass he’s staring at.

“Hello? Earth to Captain Rogers? You there?” I ask him, waving my hand in front of his face.

He blinks a few times before responding. “Just taking a little trip down memory lane.”

“This is a dead end.” Natasha’s voice echoes between the walls of the buildings. “Zero heat signatures, zero waves, not even radio.” She says, a hint of dejection in her voice.

“Whoever wrote the file must’ve used a router to throw people off.” I conclude, taking the flash drive from Nat. I look up at Steve, about to tell him we should get back in the car and continue trying to hack the file, when I notice a look of realization spread across his face. “What is it?” I ask him, confused for a moment.

He starts walking towards a dark metal building surrounded by green grass. Nat and I just look at each other before shrugging and jogging to catch up to the super soldier. I just walked.

“Army regulations forbid storing munitions within 500 yards of the barracks.” He states, quickly walking towards the metal door of the building. I quickly catch on to what he is saying and look up at him.

“This building is in the wrong place.” I realize.

When we get to the door, Cap slams the lock with his shield, effectively breaking it. And with that, we all step inside.

As we walked down the creaking stairs, I can barely make out anything in front of me. I brush a couple of stray cobwebs off of my shoulders and only hope that there aren’t any spiders in them. I shudder at the thought. Finally, Nat finds a light switch and one by one, the lights in the storage bunker flicker on.

“This is S.H.I.E.L.D.” Natasha notes, seeing the agency’s logo on the far wall.

“Maybe where it started.” Cap tells her.

It’s silent as we walk down the dusty hallways, filled with ghosts of the past. Steve carefully opens a creaky door we see, leading to a dusty office.

We looked around the room for any source of where the file came from, when a painting caught my eye. I felt my breath catch and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. For I was staring straight at a man who resembled my father so closely, I could’ve mistaken him for, well, him.

I was frozen at the spot, and I could practically feel Natasha’s concern as she followed my gaze and came to the conclusion of why I was dumbstruck. I saw Cap turn his gaze to the painting of Howard Stark and his brow furrow.

“There’s Stark’s father.” Steve observes, not thinking about the person standing right next to him.

Natasha’s head whipped towards him and she gave him a taste of her emerald glare. If looks could kill, he’d be dead many times over. She looked as if she was about to give Steve a piece of her mind, but thought better of it, seeing as it might make things worse since I was still there.

Steve at least had the nerve to look apologetic for upsetting his newfound friend and was about to stammer out an apology when I cut him off.

“Howard.” I say stiffly.

“Who’s the girl?” Nat asked Steve, changing the subject.

Steve stares at the framed photo of the young brunette for a moment, before walking away with a dejected look on his face. I guess we both had ghosts haunting our pasts.

The golden trio The three of us continue walking around, not seeing anything except empty shelves, filled with cobwebs and dust. Something about this doesn’t seem quite right. I held up the flash drive, and the tracing program showed that we were getting close. I moved forward even more, and I could see that we were very hot figuratively and literally.

“This can’t be right.” Natasha mutters under her breath, scanning her surroundings.

But it seemed like the infamous Black Widow had lost her touch.

“If you’re already working in a secret office,” I vaguely say, unaware of Steve and Natasha’s curious glance to each other. “Why do you need to hide the elevator?” I finish with dramatic effect as I push the old shelf aside to reveal a hidden elevator behind.

I take out my password scanner, and type in the password it reveals. When I finish typing in the code, the elevator bell dings and the doors slowly open. The ride down is quiet, none of us daring to speak a word or make a noise. When the doors open, we’re met with, yet another, dark and dusty room.

As the three of us walk in, it’s dead silent. All of the sudden, the doors slam shut behind us, like something out of a horror movie. Instinctively, I grab Nat’s hand, and it seems like she had the same idea in mind. She gives me a knowing look, as if she can read my mind and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

As we walk further into the room, we can make out the glowing buttons and switches of computers and machines all around us in the dark. As we continue walking towards the end of the large room, the overhead lights flicker on with a loud clanking sound. The three of us spot what seems to be the files origin point.

There are multiple computers, all from the mid 1900s, covered in dust and god knows what along with a desk and a chair. I can feel Nat and Steve’s confusion as well as mine while we examine the file’s origin point.

“This can’t be the data point,” Nat says, confusion laced in her voice. “This technology is ancient.” She scoffs.

I’m about to agree with her, when I notice a USB port, glowing a dim blue. Curious, I walk closer towards it and notice several places to insert the flash drive. From the corner of my eye, I see Steve and Natasha following my gaze and examining the USB port.

“Is that- ” Steve starts.

“Here goes nothing.” I cut him off, not wanting to delay our findings anymore.

I carefully insert the flash drive into the USB port, and instantly, a whole bunch of switches, buttons, and circuits light up and turn on. The discs that were previously still, now spun around in certain patterns. We all looked up to see a security camera lift its camera up, almost as if scanning us. We could still hear the whir and buzz of the newfound machines, but our attention was primarily focused on the camera.

All of the sudden, a strange electronic voice spoke, coming from one of the computers. “Initiate system?” It asked in its really fucking sketchy voice.

Coming to my senses, I tentatively walked forward towards the computer that was just sketchily talking.

“Y-E-S spells yes.” I say, typing in my simple command that would ultimately change our lives.

I could hear the machines powering up even more, and making that soft electronic hum that I’d learned to love, growing up.

“Shall we play a game?” I say, referencing one of my dad’s favorite movies. I glanced over at Nat, smirking.

“I’d love to.” She smirks back (understanding my reference;)

The computer beeps, and a strange, electronic face appears. We instantly fall silent, all trace of humor gone from our faces. To our astonishment, the sketchy green man in the computer starts to speak.

“Rogers, Steven,” It states, scanning Steve. “Born 1918.” It finishes.

“Romanov, Natalia Alianovna,” It states once again, this time scanning Nat. Her head whips around to stare at the camera in shock. “Born 1987.” Natasha’s eyes narrowed at the camera. Her D.O.B. was classified information, and only a handful of people knew her full name.

In shock of how the voice in the computer knew Nat’s full name and D.O.B, I didn’t notice the camera turn towards me until it was too late.

“Stark, Octavia.” It said in its creepy robotic voice. I groaned, I hated my last name and my father. “Born 1989.” It finished scanning me.

“It’s some kind of recording.” Natasha stated, trying to find an explanation for how it knew such classified information about her.

“I am not a recording fräulein!” It angrily said, if computers could be angry?? nothing made sense anymore.

Confusion etched all over Nat’s face, and I reached over to give her hand a comforting squeeze. She gave me a fleeting look of appreciation before turning her attention back to the computer.

“I may not be the man I was when the captain took me prisoner in 1945,” It continued. “But I am.” It vaguely finished, earning a spooked look from Cap.

“You know this thing?” Natasha stiffly asked Steve, not making eye contact with him.

He looks around for a moment, thinking to himself. Then he remembers.

“Arnim Zola was a German scientist who worked for the Red Skull.” He said, anxiously pacing the floor. Steve looked up at Natasha. “He’s been dead for years.” He finishes.

“First correction,” Zola interupts, causing us all to look at him, startled. “I am Swiss. Second, look around you. I have never been more alive.” He mysteriously finishes.

“In 1972, I received a terminal diagnosis. Science could not save my body. My mind, however was worth saving. On 200,000 feet of databanks. You are standing in my brain.” Zola informed us. Just lovely.

“How did you get here?” The Captain demanded.

“Invited.” Zola mysteriously answers.

I looked over at Nat to see what she thought, but I noticed that she had a look of realization etched in her features. I was about to ask her what she was thinking about, when she answered my unasked question.

“It was Operation Paperclip after World War II,” she informed us. Steve and I looked at each other, confused. “S.H.I.E.L.D. recruited German scientists with strategic value.” She told us, sensing our confusion.

“They thought I could help their cause,” Zola tells us. “I also helped my own.” He sketchily finishes.

“HYDRA died with the Red Skull.” Steve stubbornly says, refusing to believe the German, excuse me, Swiss scientist.

I scoff, I mean just how naive was the golden boy of America?

“Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.” Zola scolds us, as the HYDRA symbol appears on the screen.

“Prove it.” Cap challenges him.

“Accessing archive,” Zola starts. “HYDRA was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom. What we did not realize, was that if you try to take that freedom, they resist. The war taught us much. Humanity needed to surrender its freedom willingly. After the war, S.H.I.E.L.D. was founded and I was recruited. The new HYDRA grew. A beautiful parasite inside S.H.I.E.L.D. For seventy years HYDRA has been secretly feeding crisis, reaping war. And when history did not cooperate, history was changed.

“That’s impossible, S.H.I.E.L.D. would’ve stopped you.” Natasha states, refusing to believe that she was living inside of a lie.

“Accidents will happen.” Zola tells her, as old news clippings and photos of my grandfather, Howard Stark dying appear. Fury’s death certificate also is shown on the screen, mocking us.

“HYDRA created a world so chaotic that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security. Once the purification process is complete, HYDRA's new world order will arise. We won, Captain. Your death amounts to the same as your Life; a zero sum.”

In blind fury, Steve punches the computer screen, cracking the glass beyond repair. “What’s on this drive?” He demands.

“Project Insight requires insight. So I wrote an algorithm.” He vaguely answers Steve.

“What kind of algorithm? What does it do?” I inquire, keeping my “mission face” on.

“The answer to your question is fascinating. Unfortunately, you shall be too dead to hear it.” He tells me.

In shock I turn to Natasha and is about to tell her to run, but the metal doors bang shut, locking us in. Cap tries to throw his shield to prop it open, but he’s too late. My thoughts are interrupted by the phone I used to hack my way in here alerting me.

“Guys, we got a bogey,” I say, dread filling my voice. I can feel my heart rate rise slightly and my pulse quicken. I look up at them. “Short range ballistic. 30 seconds tops.” I finish, internally cringing at their facial expressions.

“Who fired it?” Steve once again demands.

“S.H.E.I.L.D.” I slowly say, scared of Natasha’s reaction. She’s quiet, but I can tell that underneath she’s having an internal crisis about her life being a lie.

“I am afraid I have been stalling, Captain.” Zola says once again in his annoying Swiss accent that really sounds german.

At this, I quickly yank the flash drive out of the USB port and put it in my pocket as Cap rips an air vent out of its hinges so we can hide inside of it.

“Out of time.” Zola finishes with dramatic effect.

The three of us jump inside the DIY military trench, with Cap’s shield above our heads, protecting us.

The building begins to cave in, and rubble starts to fall from the ceiling and into our trench thing. Quickly I realize that Cap’s shield can’t protect all three of us effectively, and I’d never live with myself if I let one of them get hurt because I was taking up too much space.

“NAT!” I scream, over the sound of rubble and debris falling. “Nat, no matter what happens, I love you, I will always love you.” I finish, tears welling up in my eyes.

Her eyes widen as she realizes what I’m about to do. “NO!” She screams at me, pulling me closer to her. She looks me in the eye, and I frantically scan her face, etching every single detail into my memory. “Please, O’! I love you too, you can’t- ” I cut her off by pushing myself away from them and into the falling debris.

I can hear Steve’s yells and Nat’s frantic screams as the rubble begins to pile up around me. Well, here goes nothing. I thought as I close my eyes and prepare myself for the worst. I can sense the huge piece of concrete ceiling falling towards me, fast. I close my eyes and concentrate on the thing that calms me the most. Natasha’s voice. I focus on her silky and smooth voice saying my name over and over again. I remember her piercing green eyes staring into my soul, and her fiery locks falling through my fingers as I kiss her. I think about all the times she healed my cuts and bruises after training, and all the times I stitched her back up. I take a deep breath as I feel time seemingly slow around me and brace myself for the impact that never came.

I open my eyes, and I’m not in Arnim Zola’s hidden bunker anymore. I’m in an empty yet full void with nothing but white seeming to stretch miles and miles around me. The only way I could tell the difference between up and down was, well, because I was standing.

I look down at my hands, and I can see my hands glowing a dim silvery white, which was slowly fading away. I looked around my Void, and a sense of familiarity washed around me. I hadn’t been here for years, ever since then. I shake my head, clearing all thoughts of the incident, and instead I focus on getting back to Natasha.

The funny thing is that time passes by the same in the Void. It may not seem like it, but since everything is just white, it’s hard to tell how long it’s been.

Seconds? Minutes? Days? Years?

It really just depends.

Clocks also don’t work in the Void, so there’s no way in telling what time it is besides counting.

1. 2. 3.

I count to myself in my head, but I soon lose track of that. How long until it’s safe to go back? If I go back to early, I could get crushed by a bigass piece of debris. If I wait too long, well I could end up in the hands of HYDRA.

Taking a deep breath, I give in to the temptation to go back. I don’t even know how I’m going to begin to explain this to Nat. She’s probably gonna kick my ass

In the blink of an eye, I appeared back where I was standing before the entire fucking ceiling collapsed. I looked around, trying to see if Nat or Steve was nearby. I slowly dug my way through the rubble to get to Natasha and Steve.

“NAT! STEVE! I’m here!” I shouted, frantic to get to them. I grunted and groaned, trying to push rubble out of the way when I heard it. I turned and saw the headlights of a S.H.E.I.L.D, or should I say HYDRA plane with agents on it coming straight towards me. Instinctively, I ducked and ran, narrowly avoiding the bullets their snipers shot at me.

Realizing that I wasn’t going to be able to get back to Steve and Nat, I wished them good luck and goodbye. I’d come to the conclusion that they’d upped and ran at the first sign of S.H.I.E.L.D. HYDRA so the car was gone. I sighed, this was going to be a very long day (it already was lol)

I decided I needed to surprise them and wait for them to come onto the ground, when they *cough* thought *cough* it was safe for them (it really wasn’t)

A few minutes later, I heard the sound of the plane’s back deck opening, and the sound of engines coming out. Great. Motorcycles. I thought. A Lambo or an Audi would’ve been much better for a getaway vehicle. I crouch behind a large piece of fallen rubble, waiting for my chance to strike.

Bingo.

“Thermal vision and heat sensors are picking up a signature over here.” A voice calls out.

A S.H.I.E.L.D. HYDRA motorcycle speeds towards the piece of rubble that I’m hiding behind. As soon as he’s close enough, I leap out of my hiding place, whip out my gun, and shoot him point blank in the head, killing him instantly.

I push his dead body off the motorcycle and swing my leg onto it. I can hear the steady hum of the engine and and softly stroke the shiny black metal. I rip the yank the license plate off the back so they can’t track me, and check for any other trackers.

“Adios.” I smirk, looking back at the approaching HYDRA agents.

And with that, I grip the throttle and speed away, leaving the HYDRA agents in my dust.

Now I just gotta find the love of my life Natasha and Steve. Yay.

#marvel #mcu #tony starks daughter #tonystark #fanfiction #rogue #blackwidow x reader #stark!reader #octaviastark #natasharomanov #captain america #steverogers #captain america the winter soldier #ironman #ironmans daughter #trndsttr

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nutbrain · 5 years

Text

How to Block a Number

So funny story, I actually wrote this before @kiruuuuu released her Ivan fic for recruitverse (which as you can see I’m simply enamored with and highly recommend y’all read) but I never got around to posting this. So here it is :) There’s a few bits of the Spetsnaz, but most of it is centered around Ivan.

It was a quiet day when Shay approached Ivan.

“How do you block a phone number?” Random questions were no strange thing from Shay as his mind quickly jumped gaps from one topic to another, but Ivan didn’t think he liked where this was going.

“Depends on cell service. Why you need to block number?” Ivan hauled himself up from the reclined position he’d been in on his bed. It was just the two of them at the moment, the other three doubtlessly still being run into the ground by a furious Blackbeard after they’d replaced all of his shields with plastic wrap and wire. Shay bounced awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Well, I got a text from this one guy that said Jojo gave him my number because he’d thought we’d be good together. He was nice enough at first, but then it got…weird? I don’t know, it’s probably stupid.” Shay was playing with the bottom of his sweatshirt, but finally looked up, embarrassed and somehow expecting to receive judgement from the large Russian.

“Not stupid. What did he say that make you uncomfortable?” Ivan slid his phone away and made sure to give Shay his full attention. The other man maybe twenty-four, but he was still innocent to many of the things that happened in the world.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to say. But he kept asking about my age and didn’t believe I was as old as I said. Mentioned it was really hot that I looked underage and I…it just made me feel kinda gross, ya know? But don’t tell Jojo, I don’t want to hurt his feelings because this didn’t work out.” Ivan highly doubted that Jojo had passed along Shay’s number, especially given the German’s growing attachment for Shay. However, Ivan would respect Shay’s wishes and nodded.

“Give phone. I will get number blocked in town.” Shay smiled gratefully, visibly relieved as he passed over the phone. Ivan knew full well he didn’t need to head into town to get the number blocked, but after procuring the passcode and waiting for Shay to leave, Ivan opened up the messages. He didn’t snoop in his other texts, but quickly found the contact that Shay was upset by. The last message exchange had involved a variety of eggplants and water droplets, to which Shay had merely responded to with a question mark. Whether or not the Brit actually knew what they meant was inconsequential. Ivan scrolled up a bit to see that the other man, marked ‘Jojo’s friend’, had been pestering him to visit him in his home. Ivan did not like that.

He scrolled back down and typed in the text bar ‘I’d like to come over. You home?’ Not even a minute passed until the stranger responded with the address followed by ‘See, I knew you’d come around eventually babe.’ and ‘I’ll make us some drinks, though you look too young to buy alcohol ;)’ Ivan did not like this one bit. He was now convinced that this had been Jojo’s creepy date that kept asking about Shay’s age. Jojo had not been amused and promptly kicked him to the curb, but apparently not before he’d lifted Shay’s number.

Now that he’d gotten an address, his next task was to get into town. After throwing on civvies, Ivan wandered to the Spetsnaz quarters and knocked on the door. Fuze opened after a minute and quirked an eyebrow.

“Is Glaz here?” he queried in Russian. The Uzbek nodded and stepped aside to allow him in. Fuze pointed him to Glaz’s room and trudged back to the living room couch. Ivan was used to the operator having very little to say and appreciated the efficiency of it all. After knocking and getting a response, Ivan stepped into Glaz’s quarters and glanced around. The walls were adorned with colorful paintings, vibrant against the otherwise boring walls. The bed was neatly made, and aside from the giant paint covered sheet on the floor, everything was incredibly orderly.

“Good afternoon Ivan. Did you need something?” Glaz asked in Russian as he turned his attention away from the canvas he was currently working on, filling it with bright yellows and oranges. Ivan didn’t know what it was supposed to be just yet, but trusted the sniper had a plan to bring everything together eventually.

“Yes. I was wondering if I could please borrow your car? I have a few errands to run and it’d be easier to drive than take a taxi. I’d be happy to pick up anything you’d need while I was there.” Glaz hummed, wiping of his hands before standing up and fishing his keys out of a glass bowl on his dresser.

“As long as you don’t scratch it up.” He said teasingly as he tossed Ivan the keys, “If you have time, would you be willing to pick up some paint for me? I’m nearly out of yellow.” Glaz smiled, gesturing to his canvas, and opened up a drawer, pulling out his paint set to show Ivan the brand name and what the tubes looked like. Ivan noted that Glaz was also running low on several other colors, though none nearly as low as the yellow. The sniper fished out some money to cover the cost after Ivan agreed and wished him good luck getting his errands done. On his way out, he nodded to Fuze who gave him a short wave before turning back to the TV.

Finding Glaz’s car was simple enough and he ran a quick check to make sure no one had slit the tires or dinged it while it sat. Once he started it, Ivan ensured the brakes worked; Kapkan had recently upset Jager and he wouldn’t put it past the mechanic to try and get revenge. Though Ivan doubted the revenge would be anything this extreme, he also was well aware that Bandit was extremely vindictive, especially when it came to teammates. With his ability to stop the car once it started moving intact, Ivan put the address into the GPS of his phone. It wasn’t a long drive, but boring; the radio was playing nothing good, so he switched over to the CD player. The only two discs were The Cranberries and Three Days Grace. Ivan thought this combination of music was strange, but had no doubt that saying something about it was a bad idea.

While he was still driving through a relatively empty road listening to Dolores O'Riordan belt out “Zombie,” Shay’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Ivan tugged it out, careful to keep an eye on the road. ‘Can’t wait to see you gorgeous’ was displayed on the screen, soon followed by another message which contained an image. Ivan debated opening it, but his morbid curiosity got the best of him. He regretted it instantly and pulled a face; this was worse than seeing the nudes on Sledge’s phone. Nonetheless, he responded ‘Be there in 30’.

Furious at how this person was attempting to take advantage of Shay’s innocence, Ivan thumbed the button to switch CDs. He turned up the volume and found an angry song from Three Days Grace to get him focused and picked up his speed a bit.

Ivan parked his car down the street after finding the address and scoped out the area. He always liked to have an exit plan should things go sideways and found several ways he could make a quick retreat. He’d concealed his handgun in the back of his pants, but had no intention of using it. This was a particularly seedy part of town, so Ivan figured he wouldn’t stand out too much as he walked past dilapidated buildings.

The apartment itself was in the basement of a three-story complex and he had to go around back to enter. Double checking the number, Ivan walked up to the entrance and ran the doorbell. The man on the other side opened the door with an excited look on his face that quickly fell.

“I’m expecting someone. You’ll have to come back later.” He tried to rudely close the door, but Ivan planted his foot in the way and pushed it back open. The man stumbled back and fell, letting Ivan get a good look at him as he scrambled. He was probably in his 30s, hairline already receding, but well built; strong enough to possibly overpower Shay. Whether or not he would was another question, but one Ivan didn’t ever care to find out the answer to.

“Why you keep texting my friend after he tells you not to?” He advanced menacingly before hefting the shorter man off the ground by his shirt collar, feet dangling as he stared wide eyed.

“I was interested, man. I thought he was just playin’ hard to get. Nothin’ serious, you know how it is sometimes.” Ivan narrowed his eyes, pulling him closer.

“Really? Because you made him uncomfortable. Commenting about age and pestering. You are fly. I crush fly, da?” The man shook his head, tears now starting fall as he blubbered. Ivan dropped him and pointed at the coffee table where there were two drinks.

“What you put in drinks? Hm, you drug him?”

“What? No mate, no I just…I just thought it’d help him loosen up a bit is all.” Ivan picked up both and passed them off to the man. “Drink.” Wide eyed, he downed both of them with no hesitation. Ivan figured either he hadn’t spiked the drinks or was in full self-preservation mode. Somewhat satisfied, Ivan grunted.

“Give phone. Unlock first.” The other man scrambled around in his pockets before he was passed the unlocked phone. Ivan quickly found Shay’s contact information listed under ‘Jailbait’ and deleted everything including what was backed up online.

“I deleted everything. Now,” he dropped the phone and smashed it with his heel “I’d better never see you again or” and he switched into Russian for this bit to sound more intimidating “I’ll end you faster than you can call for you mother. Clear?” The sobbing man frantically nodded, still continuing to beg and plead as Ivan left, whistling to himself as he walked back to his borrowed car. ‘Happier’ by Marshmellow was playing on the radio and Ivan decided to leave it.

He grabbed donuts to seem like he had been doing something important before dropping by an art supply store that Glaz recommended checking when he had texted him. The supplies were pricey, which explained why the sniper had probably not asked him to replace the others; more often than not, Glaz was left covering the bar tab plus damages. He wasn’t stingy though, and had bought Ivan a drink on more than one occasion. The Russian bought the four other colors that the sniper had been running out of, using a coupon to make it slightly cheaper before making his way back to Hereford.

Once he was closer to base, he filled up the gas tank and ran the car through the wash. Ivan always preferred to give vehicles back in better condition than what they were in before; it made it easier to borrow the next time he needed transportation.

Parking Ivan pulled his supplies out of the car before making the trip back to the Spetsnaz area. Kapkan opened the door and let him know Glaz would be back from the shooting range any minute before pulling him in to try some of Finka’s borscht. It was good and Ivan politely thanked her for letting him try it. He offered donuts, which were turned down by Finka but quickly snagged by Kapkan and Fuze.

True to Kapkan’s word, Glaz was back shortly and Ivan offered him the paint and a donut. Confused by the weight of the bag, the sniper peered into the opening. The look of pleased surprise on his face made the whole trip to the store worth it.

“You didn’t have to get all of these, though I admit I am running low. They’re expensive though, so let me grab you some more money to cover the price.” Ivan brushed it off, assuring him that the cost of the taxi would have been more than the tubes of paint cost. Glaz was grateful, smiling softly and offering to let him join the Spetsnaz movie night. He excused himself, citing that he had some more donuts to drop off before he could relax for the night.

That out of the way, Ivan made his way to the cafeteria where he was sure the other recruits would be. They weren’t hard to find; Jojo and Valenti were currently in the middle of a row as Gian tried to distract them and Shay pushed his peas back and forth across his tray. Ivan slid into the empty spot that was always reserved for him and set the donuts down in front of the others who quickly swarmed the box.

“Where have you been all day? Thatcher was looking for you during afternoon shooting range.” Valenti demanded around bites of donut. Ivan shrugged and told him he had errands to run.

“Did you get it done?” Shay asked hopefully, smiling as Ivan slid his phone across the table. He’d deleted all the messages off Shay’s phone after he had forwarded on the evidence to himself, just in case he ever needed to deal with the man again.

“Get what done? What were you two up to while we suffered?” Jojo peered over, looking at the phone suspiciously and then back to Shay who looked the happiest he’d been in weeks.

“He blocked a number for me! The guy wouldn’t stop texting me to get me to hang out.” That really set the others off as Jojo, Valenti, and Gian asked him rapid fire questions, demanding to know why they weren’t informed. Jojo was outraged that Shay thought he’d ever try and set him up with someone who was such a pig. He went off on one of his signature tirades, but later Ivan overheard him quietly tell Shay that he was more hurt that he didn’t feel comfortable approaching him about it. After getting all the details from Shay, the recruits hustled back to their room and entered turtle mode once they arrived, wrapping Shay in blankets and assuring him he wasn’t ridiculous for feeling uncomfortable.

Once Shay was fast asleep with Valenti and Gian holding him close, Jojo pulled Ivan aside.

“What did you really do in town? You certainly didn’t need to go in to block the number on his phone.”

“I blocked number my way. I don’t think he’ll be bothering Shay again. If he does, I know where to find him.” Jojo smiled brightly at this, pleased with the idea of inflicting violence. The two settled back down into the dog pile of operators, eventually joining Shay in sleep.

#rainbow six siege #r6s #recruitverse #r6s glaz

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whatdoyouthinkmyjobis · 6 years

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Hunters on the Hellmouth

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AN: Based on events in BTVS 7.19 “Empty Places.” Some gore and death. Major feels. Here’s a cheat sheet for keeping track of the Potentials.

Chapter 37: The Bodies

Giles thought his heart would explode with happiness and turn to ash all at once. The smell of the ocean blew in through Buffy’s open window as they buzzed down the highway. The sun blazed above them turning the grass and water painfully bright.

When she’d asked to come with him to pick up a couple of Potentials in LA, Giles couldn’t suppress his smile. He’d taken the scenic route to give them more time together. Family time.

Despite all of his attempts at conversation, Buffy had been silent for the first hour.

“Would you like some music?” he asked.

She nodded.

Giles pushed a few buttons, but these rental cars always confused him, every company wanting to make their radio more distinct and impossible. Smiling faintly, Buffy leaned forward and pressed a button. The radio came to life with Led Zeppelin. Buffy punched the button so hard, it popped off.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Maybe not music.”

He nodded, watching out of the corner of his eye as Buffy pulled her sweatshirt tighter and sank into the seat. “At least the damnable insurance will be used this time.”

Buffy reached out, taking his hand in hers. Giles wanted to slam on the brakes. To sit in this moment in the sun with his surprise daughter for maybe the last time and just enjoy life. He drove on, fingers entwined with Buffy’s.

After a few minutes, she sighed. “I don’t want to fake smile. I don’t want to lie. Not with you.”

He was happy to hear it, and gave her fingers a quick squeeze.

“But I can’t talk about it now.” She stared out at the highway ahead of them in silence.

As they entered city limits, still far from the airport, Buffy asked, “Would you wait for me?”

“Wait for you?”

“I was going to catch a bus from the airport. I, uh, need to see someone.”

Of course. This quiet trip hadn’t been about family time at all. She wanted to see Angel; for what purpose, Giles didn’t dare guess. “I am sure I can busy the Potentials with lunch.”

He glanced at her quickly, her shoulders slumped with the weight of the world, her eyes without spark. “Buffy, I hope seeing him helps.”

Karen swerved but still hit the pothole squarely, causing her old Neon to spit out her CD in protest. “Fine,” she sighed, tossing the disc in the passenger seat. She wasn’t in the mood for N*SYNC anymore. Not since she had hit Sunnydale.

Sunnydale was abandoned. Not a graffiti-riddled, broken glass, run down sort of abandoned. Rather a ghost town, like one of those stories about robots carrying on after a nuclear explosion. The sprinklers went off on the overgrown lawns. The lights were on in the abandoned stores. The traffic signals blinked between red and green, though no one was around to stop or go.

For years, her Watcher, Penny Seaward, had told her the Slayer was in prison. “Uncontrollable, that girl. Faith murdered a man in cold blood. Now we all must pay the price.” But Karen wasn’t going to sit back and let people get hurt because the Slayer was an idiot. After all, she was a Potential, so she had every right to keep San Francisco safe from vampires. In the last two years, she’d killed two dozen vampires and one demon all while balancing school and work.

Truth was, Karen often thought of herself as The Slayer.

Four days ago, she went out to patrol Golden Gate Park, where she ran into four...creatures. Manlike beings with their eyes branded shut, yet still able to see, dressed as monks and carrying curved daggers. She ran, got the drop on two of them and ran again. Her muscles were burning by the time she ran into a cute mounted police officer who was more than happy to give her a slightly surreal ride home.

After Officer Cutey McHorserider dropped her off at her apartment, she found a letter from her Watcher. “Karen, Run. Something old and evil has risen up, and it’s trying to wipe out the Slayer line. You need to get to Sunnydale. Buffy Summers is there. She can help you. I will try to distract these demons, then rejoin you in Sunnydale. Love always, Penny.”

The letter told her so little, yet spun her world upside down. Had the monsters in the park killed Penny? If Buffy Summers, the previous Slayer, was still alive, who was Faith? And how could Buffy, a rebel Slayer who’d shirked her duties to run off with her vampire boyfriend possibly be of any help?

After a tense morning of driving, Karen finally pulled up in front of the small white bungalow. With its windows and doors covered in weird graffiti it was lively compared to the rest of the town. At least, it was loud enough inside that Karen had to knock a few times before a small girl with short curly hair framing her face opened the door.

“Buffy Summers?”

The girl scoffed like someone had just confused her for Sharon Osbourne. “God no. I’m Ju. Who are you?”

Karen peeked inside, where a tangle of girls stared back at her. Many were too young to be roommates, and they clearly weren’t related. They must be -- “Karen Zhào. Potential.”

“Andrew! Dawn! We got another one!” Ju shouted back into the house. “Welcome to the lunatic asylum,” she grumbled before going back to the girls sitting on the living room floor.

Karen steeled herself and walked inside. Her fellow Potentials draped themselves across the floor as if sitting required an excruciating amount of energy. Every one of them had dark circles under their eyes and bruises on their arms. One girl held an icepack against her head.

A petite blonde in her early twenties, dressed in flares and a trendy slashed tee, trotted down the stairs. She looked like she ate worry for breakfast. “Giles didn’t bring you. Who are you?”

“Uh, Karen Zhào. I drove down --”

“You drove?!” she said with obvious delight.

“From San Francisco. My Watcher told me to get to Sunnydale because Buffy Summers was here, but I’m kind of confused because she had also told me Buffy died two years ago.”

“I’m Buffy, and she wasn’t lying,” the blonde replied, nonchalantly.

While Karen tried to process that this slip of person was the dead rebel Slayer, two tall, handsome men in their late twenties arrived with crates of apples and oranges.

“Eat up, girls!” cheered the shorter one. He smiled at Buffy while the Potentials mobbed the food.

He looked at Buffy with an adoring radiance undercut by pleading desperation. Buffy barely acknowledged him. Karen wasn’t sure if the man was in the doghouse, or if the doghouse would be an improvement.

“Fresh fruit?” Buffy said to the taller one. “Where’d you find that unicorn?”

“I’m resourceful,” replied the shorter one, smiling like he wasn’t being ignored.

“Hey! Hey! Bringers!” shouted a girl by the window.

In a flash, the whole crew flooded out of the front door. Across the street, four of those strange monks Karen had fought back home were -- Oh God -- they were dropping bodies on the sidewalk. Then in a flash of metal -- CRACK! SLASH! CRUNCH! -- the Potentials killed three of the monks. The fourth ran down the street with a Potential in pursuit. Thwack! Thwack! She landed two throwing stars in its back before it rounded the corner.

“Lara! Come back!” shouted an African girl who seemed a little older than the rest of the teenagers.

The Potential with the throwing stars, Lara, glared back at them, then up the street before slowly returning to the crowd.

A stone-faced girl with blue hair and a sweet-looking girl with large blue eyes pulled their blades from the bodies.

“You guys are pretty good,” Karen said. “I fought some of these guys the other day. Not easy.”

Blue Hair raised an eyebrow. “And you lived? At least you’re not green.”

“Mine were armed, too,” said Karen with a shrug. She wasn’t about to let any of these amateurs condescend to her. But why weren’t these monks armed?

Buffy and the two men pushed through the crowd. “Move or you’re helping with body duty!” snapped the shorter one. The crowd parted.

“We should go after them,” said Lara with a thick Russian accent. “How many have we killed these last two weeks?”

“We’ll discuss it later,” Buffy said. “First, the bodies.”

Under the scarred Bringer corpses lay two bodies. Both had their throats slit. A mother and her young daughter.

The shorter man drew a sharp breath at the sight of the two blonde bodies. “Jo?”

“Caleb,” corrected Buffy.

The first body had arrived two weeks prior, delivered at night by some vampires. It was a teenage boy. Throat cut, but no sign of a vampire bite. The next morning, Bringers brought an old woman in the same condition. They weren’t food; they were calling cards.

Through a combination of beating up vampires for information and the Winchester’s detective skills, they had learned that the priest who Cloé claimed had killed the girls at St. Agnes’ was Father Caleb Mitchum. Shockingly, he was a real priest. Less surprising, he’d been moved from parish to parish for over a decade, never lasting anywhere longer than a year.

After the first day, the Potentials, itching for a fight, started to pick off the messengers. They burned the Bringers’ bodies. The victims, they buried, which was more dignity than Caleb’s victims had gotten in the past.

Every town he’d moved to, girls went missing. Sometimes their bodies were discovered months later. Sometimes only pieces turned up. No suspect was ever named.

Without a word between them, Buffy and Dean had set off alone to bury the latest pair of bodies. She didn't particularly want to be alone with Dean, but she needed her hands to help lay these victims to rest. Buffy tried to avoid thinking about the smallest body wrapped in a sheet in the trunk of the Impala, but she couldn’t stop seeing her anyway. Maybe two years old. A mop of golden curls. This was the first child Caleb had delivered, and Buffy suspected neither of the victims were local. He’d killed that woman for a reason.

“Who was Jo?” Buffy asked.

“Another hunter.” Dean white-knuckled the steering wheel.

“To you,” Buffy clarified. She knew that Jo back in Dean’s world had died. She was one of the names memorialized in a tattoo of those he blamed himself for. The dead he couldn’t let go of.

“Another hunter,” he replied.

“Did you--?” Her throat seized up as she pictured the blonde girl again. Did you have a child with her? But no. Couldn’t be. He wouldn’t have kept that from her.

“No, we weren’t together,” he said. “Not at all. Family friend. Ambitious kid. Died on my watch.”

This was always his story. Maybe it was true. But if it was, why would Lucifer tell Caleb to find her doppelganger? Buffy wouldn’t ask again. After all, she had her own secrets to keep.

They had recently discovered that Caleb was holed up in an old monastery turned winery on the edge of town. With its thick walls and narrow windows, it was the perfect place for hiding Bringers and vampires. But they’d been slashing and staking Caleb’s minions for weeks. How many could be left?

Buffy knew the Potentials weren’t ready. They’d gotten pretty good, but there would be casualties. But if they, the Chosen and Near-Chosen, did nothing, more people would die anyway. Innocent people.

She couldn’t sit around while Caleb was still alive.

It was morning when Buffy and her rag tag army -- Potentials, hunters, a Watcher, a witch, a construction worker, an ex-demon, an ex-vampire, an unemployed principal, and Buffy’s baby sister -- descended on the winery. The front doors were already open -- waiting. It was dark inside, and she suddenly thought of those deep sea fish with dead eyes and nightmare teeth that lured smaller fish into their mouths with a small, bobbing light. She felt like a small fish.

Willow and Ella quickly began setting up a field to keep any demon reinforcements from joining the fray. Everyone watched the two redheads work. Some muttered prayers as they mentally counted down the seconds until they’d enter Caleb’s lair.

Cas, now would be a great time to make an appearance, Buffy offered the air before steeling her nerves.

Buffy entered first. The Potentials followed her closely. Racks of massive wine barrels -- one rack straight down the middle -- forced them to split up. Buffy motioned to the shotgun-toting Winchesters to each take a side.

Her crew divided, squeezed in a narrow space, with objects to hide behind at every turn. Her brain screamed Trap! But another night at home meant more bodies in the morning.

A high pitched wzzzz! Bianka dropped her crossbow, smacking her bloody neck and the small knife buried inside. As she fell, a gunshot rang out.

“Bringers!” Dean shouted.

The room exploded in a whirl of fangs and blades, flying bolts, vampire dust, and blood splatter. With one swift blow, Buffy decapitated two vampires. A bolt whizzed over her head, nailing a third.

Two cries peeled from the back of the room. Vampires had circled behind them and were preparing to feast on Ju and Nitika cowering by the door.

“Grace! Sophia! Spike! Cover the front!” Buffy commanded as she swung up on the racks, cutting her way through Bringers on her way to the back of the group.

With a swift kick, she knocked three barrels off the stack, their BOOM startling the vampires into letting the girls go. She kicked another barrel, pinning a vamp. Ju, bloody and furious, staked the trapped one. Buffy killed the other. Ju shook Nitika, and the girl slumped, lifeless.

“Get moving!” Buffy barked. She scurried to the top of the dividing row and found a Bringer. She waited as he whirled and flared his blades, watching the rhythm, and gutted him when he bared his stomach mid-display.

Below, on the other side, Dean shielded Maya, her face covered in blood. He put a bullet in a Bringer’s skull.

Sam had switched to an ax, and he and Betje worked through the crowd of vampires with berserker fury.

In the back, one vampire had Mio’s arms pinned behind her while the other went in for a bite. The girl headbutted him and kicked the biter back. Before Buffy could jump into the fray, Xander and Dawn swept in and helped Mio kill both vampires.

Buffy ran down the stack of barrels and leapt off at the front of the room where Caleb stood smirking at the bloodshed. Next to him stood Buffy’s mother.

“You know,” said her Not-Mother in a disapproving tone, “had I arrived in any other town, met any demon before I met Spike, I wouldn’t have cared about you at all. After all, what can one girl do against the onslaught of Hell? You’re not that special, my dear.”

“Did you run out of fingers to count on, Lucifer?” Buffy retorted over the clatter of weapons.

The Potentials started to break free from the confines of the aisle. They flooded the open space at the back of the building, cutting down everything in their path.

Buffy’s mother morphed into Angel. Buffy bit her tongue.

A scream rang out and was cut short. Buffy kept her eyes on Caleb.

The priest prowled towards her with an oily confidence. “The slut thinks she can win this.”

“She thinks Dean can win this.” The First corrected.

“Are we going to fight or patronize each other?” Buffy asked as she and Caleb slowly circled each other. “Because I am itching to break in these ass-kicking boots.”

Again, Lucifer changed his visage, this time turning into a familiar blonde. She had a narrow chin and big brown eyes, long, shiny hair like Buffy’s. Jo. Her grey t-shirt was soaked in blood, her guts spilling out.

“This fight is a rerun of one the Winchesters already lost. It’s when Dean lost her,” Lucifer said, pointing to the face of the girl he was wearing. “You won’t die as quickly. You are familiar with the definition of insanity, aren’t you, Buffy?

“Slayer or not, your bodies are blood and bone. So fragile, oxygen rusts you out if you don’t kill yourself with fast food first. But you’re a blowfly compared to most humans. Buzzing. Stinging. Nagging.”

“Slappable,” added Caleb.

“Short lived.”

“Then I’ll get to the point,” Buffy said, plunging her sword through Caleb’s heart.

He did not fall. He did not bleed. He smiled, pleased, and pulled it out by the blade.

Buffy tried to sweep Caleb’s legs out from under him, but he was too fast, skipping over her with delight. “Weaponless and alone,” he scoffed. “But why would I kill you when I could, say, kill her?”

Two Bringers stepped forward with Grace pinned between them. She squirmed, stomped his feet and tried to headbutt him, but he slit her throat.

Buffy lunged at him. A crowd of Bringers blocked her path. She elbowed one in the face, snatching its blade and hacking through the monks.

Caleb sank deeper into the crowd.

I don’t want to kill you yet. Jo’s voice twisted through Buffy’s head like whispers in a quiet room.

Dozens of vampires streamed in from grates in the floor. Some of the barrels popped open to reveal more Bringers. The girls were bloody, lagging. Someone screamed.

I want you to watch. To suffer.

Caleb wrapped his hands around Vi’s head and snapped her neck.

You’ll die in the end. Everyone Dean Winchester loves dies. He will abandon you as God abandoned me.

Buffy plunged a stake into a vampire as she worked her way back through the crowd. “Turn back!” she cried. “Get out!”

Have you ever wondered why God doesn’t help you, of all people?

Dawn was directing Potentials back toward the entrance when Caleb grabbed her by the throat.

Buffy’s heart stopped. She pushed through the crowd, now a writhing wall of blood and steel. Dawn kicked the priest. She couldn’t scream. Buffy pulled a short knife from a Bringer’s body and hurled it at Caleb. It sank into his neck, but he did not flinch. He smiled back at her through the throng of bodies and plunged his thumb into Dawn’s eye.

You can’t protect anyone.

A muzzle flash and Caleb reeled back, one side of his face covered in buckshot. Sam wrapped his arm around Dawn and helped her toward the door.

Buffy dusted three more vampires blocking her path before jumping on top of the barrels again. A knot of girls was stuck at the end of the row. They were blocked by bodies and barrels. Buffy ran to the end of the row and shouted, “I’ll hold them off! You climb!” Sophia, twirling her double axes with deadly precision, refused to leave her side. They cut through one, two, five vampires while Shakti, Kate and Wook climbed to safety.

“Buffy? Buffy!” Dean shouted somewhere behind her.

She turned for a second -- only a second -- to answer him and in that second, Sophia screamed. A vampire had gotten ahold of her. She chopped off its hand, but two more grabbed her. Then three. A hoard dragged her back into the building. Then they began to feast.

Buffy couldn’t save her. Couldn’t save any of them. She ran out to the crowd of bloody Potentials, a few dead Bringers at their feet. Willow, Giles and the others were busy attending the injured and loading Robin’s school bus. “Is this everyone?” she asked Spike.

“Sophia?”

“Dead.”

“Then these are your survivors.”

“Fuck this!” shouted Dean, storming toward his car. Moments later, he returned with two gas cans. He splashed the fuel all over the base of the building and doors. He flicked his lighter and set the trap ablaze.

Buffy sat unblinking, staring at the wall of the hospital, seeing nothing. She was crusted with blood, none of it hers. All of it hers.

Dawn did not want to see her.

Bianka, Grace, Violet, Nitika, Leticia, and Sophia -- all dead. Over half of the Potentials bleeding from knife wounds or bite marks. A few broken and dislocated bones. Kimberly was missing part of a finger. Rachel had taken a blade so deep to her leg, the bone showed.

Then there was Dawn. Dean, Xander and Giles had driven the more severely injured to the hospital. With only five nurses, one doctor, and a janitor working as an orderly, understaffed was an understatement. They said they wouldn’t leave town until everyone else did.

Buffy told them to leave tonight.

Xander and Giles were visiting Dawn, trying to calm her down, leaving Buffy and Dean alone for only the second time in weeks, the first being when they had buried the bodies the day before.

Dean couldn’t believe that she wanted to attack Caleb. “You think you can just waltz in there and stab stab, the big bad wolf is dead? That’s suicide! Caleb will eat these girls alive.”

“Then tell me your brilliant plan,” she had said coldly.

He didn’t have one. What he had were two dead bodies in his trunk -- a child and a woman unfortunate enough to look like Jo Harvelle.

“If we don’t move soon, the girls will go after him on their own. Hell, Lara’s already tried! Besides, Caleb is just a man. A totally creepy serial killer, yes, but still human. And the only play we have right now is knocking down Lucifer’s lieutenants.”

Dean had considered the chasm between them, widening exponentially each day since Cloe’s suicide, and wondered if he could make the jump. “You’re gonna kill him? Kinda out of line with your code, isn’t it? Sure you’re ready for that?”

“Don't talk to me like I’m some up-and-coming new kid! We can’t wait this out!”

He would have gladly killed Caleb for her. “I wasn’t--”

“You have no idea what I’m going through right now!”

Didn’t he? For nearly a year, angels had been moving him through time, threatening the people he loved -- hell -- giving him advanced stomach cancer. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy trying to keep Michael, God’s number one groupie, from crawlin’ up my ass to get a feel for what it’s like to be a fucking Girl Scout troop leader!”

He regretted the words as soon as they had left his lips, but she was already lost to him. He could see it in the tension in her body as she turned away from him, looking at her ruined city flashing by the Impala. As they fought their way into the winery, he kept wondering if those would be their last words. But now they were in the same quiet, dim room.

His voice was soft, pleading. “Dawn will be --”

“Don’t.” She didn’t even look at him.

“I was just --”

“You can’t make this better, Dean. You can’t fix this. People are dead. Dawn’s lost an eye. Anything you say will only make it worse.”

Dean understood. The last thing he’d ever wanted was to suck other people into this angelic pissing contest. And because of him, because he’d been selfish and stayed, Dawn had lost an eye. Because of him, the women he loved would lose more people she loved. As always, his love brought destruction.

The evening sun lit up the city at a sharp angle, twisting familiar shapes. Everything was bathed in light or shadow. There was no middle. As Giles drove the Summerses home, the stop lights and flickering neon of the businesses shut off.

Sunnydale was lost.

The moment they pulled up to the house, girls started streaming out the front door.

Buffy said in a tired, resigned voice, “Get back inside! Sunset is --” Someone shoved her and she fell to the driveway, tiny pebbles stinging her palms. Buffy looked up and saw Betje, her clothes covered in dried blood, her usually stoic face wild with rage.

“What the fuck was that?” Betje shouted.

“That was losing,” Buffy said, getting back up.

“That was slaughter! Why did we not burn the place to begin with? Maybe then Sophia would still be alive!”

“I’m sorry about your friend --”

“I do not want your pity. I fought with that girl across Europe trying to get to safety, and because of you, she is dead!” Betje spit in Buffy’s face.

Buffy slapped her, the blood on her palms smearing over Betje’s cheeks. Sophia’s death wasn’t her fault. Was it? Betje lunged at her, her hands around Buffy’s throat as they tumbled on the lawn. Buffy kicked her off, sending her flying and knocking over several other girls.

Buffy felt arms around her stomach. Hands on her arms. Dean voice growling in her ear, “You are better than this.” She could have broken his and Sam’s hold easily, bloody noses as parting gifts, but she didn’t want to hurt him. That was part of the problem.

Some of the girls had circled around Betje, whispering and casting sharp glares Buffy’s way. Willow, Xander, Anya and Robin stayed on the porch looking relieved to not be involved. Dawn stood by the car; her one good eye fixated on the lawn as if considering whether or not it needed a mow. Giles looked annoyed.

Keisha stepped forward, her eyes only briefly resting on Buffy. Normally quietly confident, she’d never been so wary, so tentative in the months they’d known each other. “We were talking while you were at the hospital and --”

“You screwed up, Buffy!” blurted Dani, gleefully.

They could hate her all they wanted, but they were in over their heads if they thought they could do better. “What was your big play against Lucifer, huh, Dani? Wow me.”

“It is not about beating Lucifer. It is about staying alive,” said Betje. “Something you do not seem concerned with.”

“Not concerned?!” Buffy dug her nails into her bleeding palms to keep from slapping the girl again. “Do you think I let fifty girls into my home because I was lonely? Do you think this is summer camp? Staying alive is the entire reason you’re here!”

“And you can’t wait to get us out, can you?” sneered Kate. She had a black eye and split lip. “Always shoutin’ at us. Tellin’ us when to sleep an’ what to eat an’ where we can’t go. We’re only allowed to be safe if we stay lock step with you.” Several girls nodded in agreement.

“She hides in her room!” shouted a voice from the back.

“She disappeared for a whole day!” added another.

“It was not a good plan, Buffy. You know that.” Lara’s arm was in a makeshift sling.

Buffy did know. Dean and Sam had been unable to stop Lucifer. She could do nothing but knock off each second-in-command as they rose up. Her fingers were turning blue in the dyke.

“Bad plan or not, you weren’t even helping,” sniped Dani.

Buffy felt as if she’d been slapped. “You’re joking.”

“I saw you up on top a those barrels like you was ‘managing,’” said Rona, using a nasally voice for managing. “Fightin’ off fuckin’ vampire on my own while fearless leader fails to lead.”

Buffy drew a sharp breath to respond, but Ju, her neck bandaged from the vampire bite jumped in first. “Nitika died crawling over the pile of rubble you made blocking the door.” Her face was pale and slick with tears. “She could have gotten out, waited for us to finish, but those barrels were blocking the path.”

“You say you’re saving us,” began Karen, “but if I hadn’t nailed that vampire with the crossbow, you’d be dead and one of us would be the Slayer.”

“That would be better,” said Dani, darkly.

“Whoa!” shouted Dean, getting between Buffy and the Potentials. “You talk a big game kid, but you’ve had your ass in class all this time. You ain’t got no idea what hell she’s going through.”

Neither do you.

“Maybe not, but Faith Lehane does,” said Karen.

Buffy was stunned by the out-of-nowhere suggestion that she and Faith were on the same level. She would have laughed if she didn’t feel like crying.

“Who’s Faith?” asked Maya.

The gossip made Dani look like a child hopped up on candy. “She’s the real Slayer. Buffy did die, after all.”

A murmur of surprise rippled through the girls, and Dean, who she’d never told about Faith, gaped at her in disbelief.

If they wanted to think she wasn’t the real deal, fine. “Sorry, but she’s in prison for murder. You brats are stuck with me.”

The girls exchanged knowing glances, some with tears, others with smirks. Keisha was pushed forward again.

“Buffy, I don’t know you, and you’re probably a different person without all this Lucifer stuff going on, but...we decided you have to go.”

“You’re kicking me out of my house?”

“It’s my house too,” said Dawn. “They’re right. You’re not yourself.”

Bile rose in her throat. Her sister, too?

Giles added, “Perhaps the stress is getting to you. You wouldn’t have made those mistakes even a few weeks ago.”

Even Giles. Giles who believed in her more than anyone else. Giles who she’d trusted with one of her most stressful experiences. He thought she was broken.

“You can’t be serious.” But she knew they were. “What, are you going to put Dani in charge?”

“No,” said Betje. “Dean.”

Dean’s face was a mixture of shock and indignation. “No, no, no. This ain’t my circus.”

“You set the building on fire!” Betje encouraged. “We should have done that in the first place.”

Buffy didn’t want to hear him defend her again. She didn’t need defending or a highlights reel of her failures. She needed sleep. While they argued, she sneaked into the house.

Throwing some clothes in a backpack, she uncovered a purple bag and three books, long forgotten Slayer gifts from Robin Wood. The same Robin Wood on her front lawn nodding along to the idea that she was a failure.

Maybe she was. Even so, she was the only Slayer there. She tossed the bag and books into her duffel and left out the backdoor.

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pastel-flapflap-blog · 5 years

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The Holy Grail, ch5

Thea was quietly fuming upstairs as she made sure everything was packed in her go-bag. It was a small, army green backpack that she always kept on her person should she lose access to her vehicle for whatever reason while out scavenging. It contained all the pertinent items she’d need in a pinch: a spare knife, ammo, water bottle, a couple of stale granola bars. There was also a lock-picking kit that she had no idea how to use, but she had found it while on a food run and figured it wouldn’t hurt to carry around. Maybe she could poke someone’s eye out with it if she needed to.

Mads was lazing on the bed in front of her near the headboard. <Maybe we were a little hasty by letting him into the house,> she said. As if she wasn’t the one practically showing her belly to the man downstairs.

“Do you really want to start on that?” Thea asked, the words almost coming out as a growl as they made their way through her clenched teeth.

<I’m just saying, we wouldn’t have to leave the house if we hadn’t. I don’t want to go outside again.> She put her large head on her front paws. <All kinds of shit can go wrong out there.>

“We’ve been over this,” Thea said. “And the tune you were singing was a hell of a lot different half an hour ago.”

Before Mads could retort with more than an unhappy groan, they heard a knock on the door. Thea stiffened, pausing for only a moment before fastening her bag closed and slinging it on her back. When she turned to the door, Negan was standing in the hallway and looking at her like she was crazier than a soup sandwich.

“Making sure you weren’t hightailing it outta here,” he said carefully. When Thea didn’t speak and only met his scrutinizing eyes with her own smoldering glare, he continued. “Your elevator not go all the way to the penthouse?”

Slightly offended, Thea opened her mouth to respond; she thought twice and began to walk past him. Mads was hot on her heels, snickering. “We can leave as soon as it gets dark out. I don’t want anyone who might be lurking behind to see I’ve got a bag of dicks next to me in the car.”

“Ouch,” he followed behind her and had a smile on his lips. “She’s fuckin’ feisty, too. I bet you’re damn good in bed, sweetheart. The crazy ones always are.”

At that, Thea whirled on him and poked her finger in the center of his chest. She pushed hard, but he showed no signs of pain; he just looked a little more than irritated with his slight frown and downcast brows. “Listen here, fuckboy. I’m not in the mood to made fun of. I’m about to leave my perfectly safe home to go on some escort mission for some fucker I don’t even like. So, save the witty banter and let’s just go.”

At that moment, Negan’s gaze was venomous. His eyes were dark slits and she noticed his empty hand begin to clench again.

“If you’re going to hit me,” she said, making a motion toward his fist with her eyes, “I suggest you aim for the one hit K.O.; Mads can rip your throat out with the snap of my fingers.” Her own look was dangerous, the fire in her belly creeping up into them and making them glitter.

Mads took a step forward, sensing the tension, and let out a low growl. <I don’t want to, Thea,> she said to her friend. All the same, her hackles raised slightly, and her ears pointed forward toward Negan.

Negan reluctantly relaxed his hand. “You’re not going to get hit, missy, but you’re well on your way to pissing me the fuck off. I’m planning on giving you a fuckin’ smorgasbord of goodies when you deliver yours truly home, and you’re acting like I’m asking you to fuckin’ risk yourself for free.”

Thea remained silent and continued to glare at him.

“Hell, you can even stay if you find that you like what you see,” Negan said, a barely-there smirk beginning to show.

“I don’t think I will,” Thea said, removing her finger from his chest.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you see it,” he said, giving her a full smile now. He really was giving her whiplash with these mood swings. It was giving her a headache.

“Let’s just go,” she said, sighing. “Mads, c’mon.” When she turned to go downstairs, the wolf-dog and Negan trailed behind her silently.

Shortly after sunset, Thea directed Negan through her kitchen and into the attached garage. It was nearly pitch-black, and she had to use a flashlight to see where she was going. She opened the back door for Mads. “Load up,” she said. She didn’t have to say the command, but it was a habit; Mads jumped immediately into the car as soon as the door was pulled opened.

<Alright! Let’s go kick some undead butt!>

Thea rolled her eyes and smiled at the wolf-dog. She may be a sassy Susan, but she really was just a dog when it came to car rides. Once they hit the pavement, she’d have to lower the window so she could stick her head out of it and enjoy the wind on her face.

“Go ahead and get in,” Thea said to the man standing behind her. They hadn’t really spoken in the time between their altercation upstairs and now. He had talked a little to a very appreciative Mads as he rubbed her exposed belly. It was disgusting.

Negan sauntered over to the passenger side and slid in as Thea walked to the garage door. She bent to lift it and pushed it over her head, wincing at the loud screeching noise it made. One of these days, she’d remember to look for some WD-40. Until then, she’d just go a little deafer every time she left with the car. And maybe attract some of the walking dead.

She hurried to the car, antsy that she couldn’t see anything in the dark past a few feet in front of her. She did the habitual check of the mirrors before she put her foot on the break and hit the start button. Negan let out a low whistle. “Fuckin’ fancy.”

Thea couldn’t help it; the dead be damned. She revved the engine and the catbacks roared and popped. She fought to hide a smile when Negan let out a “Hot damn!” This car was her baby—a pretty blue Subaru WRX. A few months ago, she’d managed to swipe town from an old garage close to the outskirts of the town closest to her and had been pleased as punch to hear that it sounded as sexy as it looked. The four-wheel drive was nice to have when the roads had fallen to such disrepair, too.

“Okay, get your ass down so no one sees you.”

Negan couldn’t help but give her a lascivious look as he lowered the seat down and leaned back. She didn’t dignify it with a worded response and only rolled her eyes. Once she was backed out of the garage, she hopped out and shut it. Then, they were off.

“Give it a minute and you can come back up for air,” she said, not looking at him. She lowered her back window for Mads. As predicted, the wolf-dog immediately shoved her head out of the window. Her grey and black fur flew wildly around, and her tongue lolled out of her mouth happily.

Thea smiled when she looked at her through the side mirror. When they were a few miles out of the cul-de-sac, she motioned for Negan to lift his seat back up. “So, where to?”

Negan had told her to plan to be on the road for a while, so she grabbed the large CD case that she kept behind the passenger seat. She flipped to the middle of the case and grabbed a random disc; without looking what it was, she popped it into the car’s CD player.

“We’re not gonna listen to some shitty chick music, are we?”

“Who knows,” she said nonchalantly. She really had no idea what CD she had picked, but she knew for sure that all the CDs in the case were decent. She’d spent a little too long in the local music shop picking out stuff to fill up the case with and none of them were “shitty chick music.”

He barked out a laugh. “It’s going to be a fucking long as hell road trip if I have to listen to fucking Alanis Morrisette.”

“I think you even knowing her name incriminates you of actually liking chick music.”

<He’s probably the type to listen to that old as dirt country music,> Mads said. She’d removed her head from the window a while ago and had laid down across the back seat. Her eyes met Thea’s in the rear-view mirror and Thea only smiled, careful not to say anything to her four-legged companion.

I made my slow way home Limping on broken bones Out of the thickest pine Across the county lines On to your wooden stairs I know you can repair I know you've seen the light I know you'll get me right

Right Right Right

I own a sinner's heart I know the rain falls hard I know the currency I know the things you'll need I hope he hears my prayers I see you cut your hair I know the saving type I know you'll get me right

They rode in silence as the song played, Thea drumming her fingers on the wheel and concentrating on the road in front of her. She thought of the band she’d played with a few times before the end of the world and felt a heaviness in her chest. She really did miss playing for an audience; missed being around that energy. Now that everything around her was dead or dying, that feeling of exhilaration on stage that had made her feel so alive seemed so far away now. She doubted she’d ever get to feel that way again.

“Better than chick music,” Negan said, breaking the silence.

Thea snorted. She turned to speak to him and noticed his fist on his thigh, which was again clenched. She frowned. “Why do you always do that?” She really was starting to worry about getting put six feet under as soon as she delivered him home.

Negan met her eyes, a questioning look in his own. She pointed at his fist, which made him look down. He must have not realized that he had been squeezing his hand because he immediately stopped and flattened it out against his leg. He was silent for a moment and Thea didn’t think he would respond to her at all; she shrugged and looked forward again, ready for more awkward silence, when he spoke.

“Those assholes took my girl from me when they attacked me and my men,” he explained. “She was fucking special.”

“They kidnapped someone?” Thea felt the beginnings of hot anger take the place of the lonely feeling in her chest.

<Or maybe he means that they killed her?> Thea swallowed hard. If those people were killers, she had been incredibly lucky that they didn’t find out she was hiding the man they were looking for in her upstairs closet.

Negan gave a grim smile. “My girl,” he said, “was a beautiful, bloodthirsty lady.” Thea suddenly regretted conversing with Negan, not for the first time. “She completed me.”

Thea turned her eyes back toward the road, feeling very uncomfortable. “Well, whatever floats yer boat…” Negan was silent, and she noticed his fist clench once more. She couldn’t help but feel the need to help him again—that same protectiveness that got her stuck in this shitty situation to begin with was beginning to work itself up into a tizzy and no matter how much she tried to shove it back down to the hole it came from, it threatened to take her over completely. She couldn’t help her self when she continued the conversation. “What’s her name?”

“Lucille,” he answered immediately, the word taking its time coming from his lips as if he were savoring it. “Turn right up here.” He pointed to a road sign a few yards in front of them.

As she continued to drive, she found herself at a loss for words.

<If I die,> Mads said, letting out a soft groan, <I’m haunting you for the rest of your life. I will open all your cabinets and stack all your chairs when you aren’t looking. For eternity.>

Thea squeezed the steering wheel with both hands and she swallowed thickly. Why did she always get herself into these situations? Why did she feel the need to insert herself in other peoples’ problems?

<He’d better have some sweet treasure for us to pay us back.>

Thea agreed silently. No matter how much she wanted to help, this ride was it. As soon as they got whatever payment Negan was going to give them, they were speeding away into the sunset back home.

The ride was close to silent once more, only the purr of the catbacks and music sounding out in the otherwise quiet night.

Mads suddenly sat up on her haunches, looking at Thea through the rear-view. <Do you think he’ll have Milk-bones?>

#the walking dead #fan fiction #fanfiction #negan #daryl #daryl dixon #negan x original female character #daryl x original female character #the holy grail #nanowrimo #ao3 #ao3 handle: hachimaru

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friendswithbusinesses · 6 years

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Chapter 1

It was an average day just like any other. The weather was fair with a gentle breeze, traffic within the city was light, and even gas magically managed to avoid increasing in price. The only thing out of the ordinary was that Richard Cobble was at home instead of working at his office. He even managed to find a pair of faded jeans and a plain, light blue t-shirt to wear instead of his usual pressed suit.

Richard was on a step ladder in his living room trying to set up a security camera. He was having a tough time due to the fact that he had no idea what he was doing and the only instructions he was getting was via the phone from his secretary, Drew Mason. He had the phone smashed between his ear and shoulder, angling his head awkwardly so he wouldn’t drop it.

“Okay, okay. I have it secured to the wall,” Richard explained.

“That’s good, Mr. Cobble. Everything should be ready. Now all you have to do is set up the connection between the camera and your phone.”

Richard gave a grunt as his response and carefully stepped down from the step ladder. Keeping the phone on his shoulder, he quickly folded the ladder and gently set is against the wall to avoid tripping over it later. He used his hand to remove the phone from his shoulder and pressed the “home” button on his touch screen and tapped his surveillance app. The app made a tiny “ping” noise as it opened and the screen loaded with two empty white bars. One labeled “email” and the other “password” and in tiny print below the second bar read “new user.”

Richard explained what was on his phone screen to Drew, “The next step, Mr. Cobble, is to tap the ‘new user’ and create a new account.”

“Simple enough,” he replied and did just that. After putting in his email and desired password, he also added his and his secretary’s number in case of an emergency. “Now it says to ‘set up connection with security device.’ How do I do that?”

“One moment, sir,” came Drew’s quick reply. Richard could hear her fingers typing quickly on her keyboard. After a moment of silence she picked the phone back up. “What you need to do now is switch the connection option on your computer to ‘on’.”

“My computer? Why would I need to do that?”

“Mr. Cobble, the security system you just installed should have come with a disc to set up a program on your computer.”

“Oh, that,” Richard looked around on his desk to find the disk, but was stumped when he didn't find it where he thought he put it. Checking under the desk, Richard heard the soft chime of a bell. Leaning up to look at the direction of the noise, he saw his cat perched on the arm of the couch with the disc in her mouth. “I found it, but there’s a slight problem.”

“What is it?”

“Princess has it.”

“Oh dear,” Drew replied dreadfully. Her boss’s cat was a lovely social Persian, but once she had a hold of something, she became a vicious tiger when someone tried to take it away from her. Retrieving the disc wasn’t going to be easy, especially since she wasn’t declawed.

Richard’s brow began to sweat a little at the nervous prospect of trying to retrieve the disc. Princess didn’t notice her owner’s stare and started to chew on her new toy. Richard slowly stood up and set down the phone with Drew still on the line. Drew could hear the floor creak as her boss slowly approached the feline. As the steps started to fade away she could hear him talk to the cat, “Hiya, Princess! Who’s a good kitty kitty? Daddy is just going to take that disc from you . . .”

Richard’s words began to fade as he continued to walk farther away from the phone. For a few moments Drew couldn’t hear anything at all, but suddenly she heard a loud hiss and an ever louder “SHIT” followed by all sorts of banging. She could have sworn she heard something smash but she was more concerned over the running stomps.

These noises went on for a few minutes and Drew was entertaining the idea of leaving work to assist her boss, but she snapped to attention when she heard heavy footsteps rapidly approach the phone. “Screw it,” he gasped, clearly out of breath. “That monster can keep the damn thing. I’m heading over to Ted’s office.”

“Is everything alright?” Drew asked alarmingly. “Why do you need to go to his office?”

“Ted stole my house key a few days ago and catnapped Princess. I’m going to snoop around in his office and make sure he didn’t make a copy.”

Before Drew could change his mind he hung up. He knew going to Ted’s office was a bad idea, but it’s not like he could send anyone else to do it. They don’t know what the key looked like and he wasn’t going to hand over his only copy for a reference. He sighed as he pocketed his phone, hoping the noise would help motivate him to get started. He opened his front door and made sure to lock it behind him, jiggling the doorknob to double check the safety of his home.

Not feeling like driving, he walked down his driveway and turned right along the sidewalk. He continued in that direction for about a block when he spotted a taxi and quickly signaled it over. It only took a few moments for the cab to pull up next to him. He opened the door and sat inside with a huff and told the driver the address to Stone Industries. The cabbie nodded and pulled away, giving Richard the opportunity to relax and look out the window. Traffic was a little congested so Richard took his time looking at the city and letting his mind wander.

One of the first things he noticed was all the graffiti. A lot of the vandals clearly had talent and the vivid colors added life to the otherwise gray neighborhood. His favorite was an amusing caricature of his favorite childhood cartoon; a crime fighting duck with a purple outfit, complete with a mask. The caricature had the character’s hat just a little too big and the rest of the body looked like a child wearing adult clothes.

Richard remembered how he and Theodore used to watch the show every Saturday together when they were kids. Richard’s mother was an excellent seamstress and made the costumes of their favorite avian hero and his nemesis. Richard would be the hero and Ted would be the villain. For a nice kid, Ted had perfected the “evil villain”. voice and would often scare his own mother with it.

Richard chuckled at the memory and that giddiness soon became sadness. He and Ted were best friends all the way to college, but they had a falling out and haven’t spoken to each other since. Well, until a few days ago that is. Richard hadn’t heard from Ted in eight years and the first thing he does to get his attention was to break into his house and steal his cat.

He noticed that the cabbie was parking and quickly paid the man and included a nice tip. With a happy smile and words of appreciation, the cabbie drove off. Richard turned away from the road and looked behind him to stare at Ted’s building. He whistled his admiration and counted roughly thirty floors. He was here once before when Ted tricked him into visiting, but he never actually took a good look at the building. Richard’s building had 10 floors, but he knew Ted didn’t care about appearances. Ted cared about getting the job done and Richard really liked that about him.

Steeling himself, Richard finally decided that it was time to head inside and walked through the revolving doors. The ground floor was a giant lobby and reminded him of an airport. There were people walking around everywhere. Not a single place seemed devoid of movement. It was very large with a high ceiling and there were luxurious couches and loveseats strategically placed against the walls. The floor looked like white marble and in the center was a large fountain with a small pool to collect thrown change. Instead of having an angel or Greek hero on the fountain it was a howling dog with a stream of water coming out of the mouth. The wallpaper was white with gold trim and there was even a giant chandelier hanging above the fountain. To his right, he noticed a map pinned neatly to the wall. He gladly approached it and noticed that on the 5th floor was an indoor pool. What kind of business was this?

“Can I help you, sir?”

Richard started at the sudden voice and turned to his left to see a smartly dressed young woman with black hair and blue dyed tips. He saw this woman before when he rescued his cat, but didn’t pay her much attention. Now that she was standing right beside him, there was something familiar about her. “Uh,” came his genius reply.

“Do you need help finding anything, sir?”

“No, uh, I was looking over the map to see how large this place really is.”

She gave him a kind smile, “This place is relatively new and the owner, Mr. Stone, is thinking of expanding and starting a chain.”

Richard paused at that and tilted his head slightly, “What kind of business is this place?”

“It’s a grand hotel, sir.”

That made him scrunch his face in confusion, “A grand hotel? Why is it named Stone Industries?”

The woman looked like she was trying her best not to smile at his expression, “The previous owner, Fletcher Stone, used to sell cars here, but when Mr. Stone inherited the business, he changed it into a hotel instead.”

Richard couldn’t believe why Ted would even want to run a hotel. The man hated hard work. “Thank you for the information.”

“Anything else I can help you with, sir?”

“No, thank you.”

With a polite nod, the woman headed toward the front of the lobby and sat behind a huge desk, leaving only her head and shoulders visible. She adjusted her glasses and answered a phone the moment it started to ring.

With a swift glance around the lobby, Richard spotted the elevator and headed inside. It was a large elevator with the top half of the walls covered in mirrors and the bottom half followed the same white and gold theme as the lobby. Richard expected someone to be working the elevator, but no one was present so he went ahead and pressed the button to the top floor.

The elevator shook slightly as it started to climb and Richard was delighted to notice that the elevator music was classical and not that garbage other elevators seem to have. The particular music being played was “Ave Maria” by Bach and Richard thoroughly loved this piece. To increase his mood, the elevator arrived to the top floor just as the music ended. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. The elevator shook once more as it stopped and the doors opened with a light “ding.”

Stepping out of the elevator, Richard was surprised to see how little staff was up here. He saw only three people and a fourth desk that was empty. He wondered briefly who usually sat there, but he decided that he didn’t care and headed toward Ted’s office at the end of the hall. As the walked past the three desk workers, he expected them to try and stop him, but they didn’t even look at him as he walked by.

He knocked gently on the door and when no one answered he poked his head in and scanned the area. Relieved to see it empty, he stepped inside and gently shut the door. He made a beeline to Ted’s desk and started to investigate every drawer he saw. He was able to look through half of them before he heard the door open. Cursing himself for not being more alert, he stood up slowly from behind the desk to see who came in and cursed himself again when he noticed it was a security officer.

“Hello, officer,” Richard managed to greet with a sincere tone.

“I’ve been following you since you came into the building. I need you to get on your knees and put your hands behind your head,” the officer replied as he produced a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

“Do you have any idea who I am? I am Richard Cobble, owner of Cobble Publishing.”

“Sure you are, please make this easy for the both of us and comply. I’d rather not make a scene.”

Richard was flabbergasted that this man had no idea who he was and that’s when he realized that he never changed out of his jeans and t-shirt. Cursing himself a third time, he was about to obey his orders when Ted walked into his office.

“There you are!” Ted greeted cheerfully. He quickly approached Richard with a concerned expression, “I told you to wait for me in the lobby! You could have gotten lost!”

Richard was too stunned to speak. The officer was just as confused, “Do you know this thief, Mr. Stone?”

“Thief! Why this man is my cousin! You’ve been working for me for a few months and I figured you knew how to recognize wealthy men by now.”

The officer had a deadpan look on his face, “Wealthy? This guy?” His gaze darted to Richard, judging his cheap shirt and dirty jeans, then to Ted, who was wearing a business suit.

Ted shook his pointer finger at the officer and “tsked” at him, “Mr. Huff, I asked him to dress casually. We haven’t seen each other in a long time so I wanted to take him out to dinner.” Ted paused for a moment and tilted his head to the side slightly, “Why did you call him a thief?”

“I caught him looking through your desk, sir,” he answered.

Ted looked at Richard and cocked an amused eyebrow, “I forgot my wallet up here and Richard was too impatient to wait for me so I assume he was looking for it. Right, cousin?”

“Uh, right,” Richard affirmed quickly.

The officer paled, “You just called him Richard. You don’t mean Richard Cobble do you? The new businessman that just moved his company here a few weeks ago?”

“The very same,” Ted nodded. Richard just flashed the officer a smug grin.

“I- I’m very sorry, sir!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Richard said cooley.

“Thank you for your vigilance, Mr. Huff, but I can handle it from here.”

The officer nodded once and hurriedly left the room. Ted and Richard were stuck in the office alone and Richard was embarrassed over the whole ordeal. “Sorry about the trouble, Ted.”

“I didn’t make a copy of your house key,” Ted chuckled.

Richard blinked a few times, “How did you know that’s what I was looking for?”

“Oh please!” Ted slapped Richard on the back playfully. “You’re so predictable!”

“I am not!”

“You are too,” Ted laughed. “I bet you’re dressed like that because you were installing security to keep me out of your house.” When Richard didn’t respond Ted laughed harder. “Why didn't you just change the locks? That would have been much easier and it would also make any copy key I might have had useless.”

Richard thought about what Ted said for a moment and slowly ran a hand down his face in irritation at himself. His day would have been much easier if he just did that in the first place. He looked at Ted and saw his smirk. Richard felt his cheeks burn with a small blush of embarrassment and looked away.

“I promise not to catnap Sunshine again, cousin.”

“Her name is Princess,” Richard grumbled. “And don’t call me cousin.”

“Well we have to pretend to be cousins now! Mr. Huff likes to gossip so I’m sure half the building knows we’re cousins.”

“But we’re not cousins!”

“Obviously, but my employees don’t know that. If you deny our blood then my security guard would wonder why I lied to him and that would make him doubt my story about you looking for my wallet.”

Richard sighed in defeat. Ted was right. Denying their false family ties would cause more trouble than it would solve. “So,” Ted began. “How about dinner? Consider it an apology for taking Mashed Potatoe Sunshine.”

Richard cringed at the full use of his cat’s annoying second name, “It sounds worse when you say the whole damn thing. You do realize that you misspelled potato on her collar, right?”

“Oh, did I?” Ted feigned ignorance and battered his eyelashes innocently at his former friend. He looked down and noticed that Richard had a fresh bandage on his hand. Ted pointed at it with a finger, “What happened?”

Richard followed his gaze and realized what Ted was referring to. “Nothing.”

“Did you try to take something from Sunshine?”

“No,” came Richard’s too quick reply and Ted laughed at his expense.

“So . . . Dinner?”

Richard just rolled his eyes. “How about Bananaflies? They have a steak special going on this week.” Ted just beamed Richard a huge smile and was practically glowing with happiness. He opened his office door for Richard to walk through and they both headed out to enjoy their first meal together in years.

#op #writing #story #writingprompt #chapter1

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